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Wo^JPlorence^ 


aiian  -ivniFing' 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


Ex  Libris 
C.  K.  OGDEN 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOll 


\V\I.TKI{     SAVACiK     I.ANDOIt. 
From  the,  Oriiiinnl  piiintlmj  hi/  f'hnrli'.s  diri/ll  ('olfiiinn.     Fronti  riECE. 


THE 

FLORENCE  OF  LANDOR 


BY 
LILIAN   WHITING 

AUTHOR    OF    "a    STl'DY    OF    ELIZABETH    BAKRETI     UROWVING,"    "BOSTON 

DAVS,"    "THE    WORLD    BEAUTIFUL    IN    BOOKS,"    "THE    UFE 

RADIANT,"    "THE    WORLD    BEAUTIFUL,"    ETC. 


"  And  thou,  his  Florence,  to  thy  trust 
Receive  and  keep, 
Keep  safe  his  dedicated  dust, 
His  sacred  sleep." 


With  Illustrations  from  Photographs 


LONDON 
GAY    AND    BIRD 

22  Bedford  Street,  Strand 

1905 


Copyright,  1905, 
By  Lim.E,  Brown,  and  Gjmpany. 

All  rights  reserved 
Published  November,  190J 


THE  UNIVERSITY   PRESS,    CAMBRIDGE,    U.S.A. 


TO 

OF 

ROBERT   AND   ELIZABETH    BARRETl^ 
BROWNING 

WHOSE    FRIENDSHIP    ENFOLDED  AND    SUSTAINED   THE 
LAST    LONELY    YEARS   OK 

WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR 

AND    WHOSE    GENIUS    HAS    LEFT    ITS    IMMORTAL    IMPRESS 
ON     FLORENCE,     THE     CITY     OF    THEIR     LOVE, 
THESE    PAGES  ARE    INSCRIBED  ItV 

LILIAN  WHITING 

Florence,  Italy,  May-days,  1905 


Each  life  converges  to  some  centre 

Expressed  or  still  : 
Exists  in  every  human  nature 

A  goal. 

Ungained,  it  may  be,  by  a  lijcs  low  venture, 

But  then 
Eternity  enables  the  endeavoring 
Again. 

Emily  Dickinson. 


CONTENTS 

Page 

I    TiiK  Florenck  of  Landor 3 

II   From  Fiesole  to  Vallomrrosa 41 

III    The  Dew  of  Parnassus 103 

IV    Idvm.ic  Horns  ix  Florentine  Saunterings     .  145 

V   The  Diu'.AM  of  Rose  Avlmkr 201 

VI    "Imaginary  Conversations" 221 

VII    The  TwiLiGirr  of  the  Gods 259 

Index 319 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

Walter  Savage  Landor FroJitispiece 

From  the  original  painting  by  Charles  Caryll  Colemnn 

Via  Tomabuoni Page  9 

An  Angel  of  the  Tabernacle.     Fra  Aiigelico     .     .  "  2i{ 

Cypress  Trees  in  the  Grounds  of  Villa  Landor .     .  "  41 

Villa  Landor,  from  the  Garden "  52 

Santa  Croce "  71 

View  from  Villa  Landor  over  the  Fiesole  Slopes   .  "  83 

Dante  Alifrhieri "  110 

From  the  portrait  discovered  in  the  frescoes  of  Giotto  iit  the 
Be  gello,  Florence 

Savonarola "  180 

From  the  statue  by  Pazzi  in  the  Palazzo  Vecchio 

Mercury "  19* 

From  the  bronze  of  Giovanni  da  Bologna 

Entrance  to  Grounds  of  Villa  Landor       ....  i'  22 1 

View  of  Fiesole "  254- 

View  from  the  Grounds  of  Villa  Landor       ...  "  281 

Entrance  Hall,  Villa  Landor "  290 

Monument  to  Dante  Alighieri "  309 

Stefano  JRicci.    Santa  Croce,  Florence 


THE  FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 


Yon  road  I  enter  upon  and  look  around  ! 
I  believe  xfou  are  not  all  that  is  here  ! 
I  believe  that  ynuch  unseen  is  also  here. 

WaU  Whitman's  "  Song  o/th«  Open  Road.' 


THE  FLORENCE  OF  LANDOR 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

•'  Nothing  that  is  shall  perish  utterly, 
But  perish  only  to  revive  again 
In  other  forms.  ... 
.  .   .  The  passion  and  the  pain 
Of  hearts,  that  long  have  ceased  to  beat,  remain 
To  throb  in  hearts  that  are,  or  are  to  be." 

Longfellow. 

Florence,  lying  fair  under  the  gleaming  ame- 
thyst lights  of  the  early  spring  days  of  1821, 
with  the  old,  gray  tower  of  the  Cathedral  on  the 
heights  of  Fiesole  silhouetted  against  a  brilliant 
sky,  revealed  herself  like  a  dream  of  enchantment 
to  the  vision  of  AValter  Savage  Landor.  For  six 
years  he  had  been  living  in  Italy,  sojourning  in 
Como,  iNIilan,  Pisa ;  and  on  his  departure  from 
the  City  of  the  Leaning  Tower  he  ^^Tote  :  — ■ 

"  I  leave  with  unreverted  eye  the  towers 
Of  Pisa  pining  o'er  her  desert  stream. 
Pleasure  (they  say)  yet  lingers  in  thy  bowers, 

Florence,  thou  patriot's  sigh,  thou  poet's  dream  ! " 

Entering  Florence  did  he  overtake  that  psy- 
chological moment  that,  somewhere  and  some- 

3 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

time,  lies  in  wait  for  every  one  ?  Did  he  then 
take  the  first  step  on  that  "  open  road  "  whose 
atmosphere  is  pervaded  by  the  joy  of  achievement, 
the  fruition  of  beautiful  friendships,  which  are  the 
only  true  realities  of  life  ?  For  was  not  this 
the  open  air  in  which  all  heroic  deeds  might  be 
conceived,  all  gi-eat  poems  written  ?  However 
unconsciously,  Landor  was  opening  the  most 
richly  illuminated  chapters  of  his  life.  Before 
him  stretched  away  years  freighted  with  pro- 
found significance.  Down  the  long  vista  waited 
beautiful  figures,  —  the  forms  of  poet,  painter, 
and  thinker,  as  yet  undiscerned  in  the  distance; 
signals  flashed  to  him  unrecognized  by  his  vision  ; 
subtle  vibrations  thrilled  the  air,  that  had  still 
not  aroused  his  answering  perception;  all  the 
fascinating  possibilities  of  the  Unknown  were 
ready  to  spring  to  life  and  light  at  the  touch 
of  "  the  electric  chain  wherewith  we  're  darkly 
bound."  New  interests,  new  sympathies,  ready 
at  a  touch  to  materialize  into  undreamed- 
of combinations  and  forces,  lay  latent  out  in 
this  undiscovered  country  of  the  unpenetrated 
future. 

"  The  tapestries  of  Paradise 
So  notelessly  are  made  !  " 
4 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LAXDOR 

The  tapestries  of  life,  woven  out  of  threads  invisi- 
ble to  the  eye  after  designs  which  have  not  pre- 
fi^^iired  themselves,  are  made  as  notelessly  as  are 
those  of  the  Paradise  of  which  the  poet  dreams. 

Into  that  wonderful  Florence,  still  vital  with 
the  color,  the  romance,  the  tragedy  ;  the  pas- 
sionate exaltation  and  the  passionate  despair  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  was  Landor  entering.  All 
this  was  a  part  of  his  unconscious  inheritance. 
Florence  thrills  to-day  with  the  tumult  of  the 
joys  and  the  triumphs,  the  sorrows  and  the 
patlietic  failures  of  her  dead  centuries,  whose 
inner  history  is  yet  to  be  \\Titten.  It  awaits 
the  seer  who  is  the  romancist,  or  the  dra- 
matic poet  who  can  flash  the  Rcintgen  ray,  the 
radium  light,  through  these  ages  of  accumu- 
lated experience  and  unveil  to  the  modern  eye 
these  mysterious  conflicts  between  the  forces  of 
good  and  the  forces  of  e\'il  that  have  determined 
the  present  quality  of  Florentine  life. 

The  long,  unknown  years  lay  before  Landor 
as  the  veritable  Salle  des  Ilhisions,  like  that  wliich 
was  WTOught  out  of  fire  and  magic  in  the  expo- 
sition of  1900  in  Paris. 

There  are  really  few  things  in  life  that  one 
may  so  wisely  cherish  as  his  illusions.     He  may 

5 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

well  be  as  willing  to  part  with  his  delusions  as  was 
Hamlet  to  part  with  the  society  of  Polonius ; 
but  one's  illusions  are  the  annexation  of  fairy- 
land and  of  all  the  infinite  possibilities  which  it 
rests  with  himself  to  transmute  into  the  great 
realities.  One  endures,  one  achieves,  by  seeing 
that  which  is  invisible.  It  is  the  law  and  the 
prophets. 

The  Salle  des  Illusions  of  the  Paris  Exposition 
pro\'ed  itself  the  most  poetic  attraction.  It  ap- 
pealed to  human  nature.  Its  charm  lay  in  its 
dramatizing  the  extension  into  fairyland.  Out- 
wardly the  mechanism  comprised  only  a  small, 
octagonal  salon,  fitted  up  with  a  few  pillars  and 
arches  and  deciorative  electric-light  designs  in  the 
ceiling,  the  walls  lined  with  mirrors.  In  an  ad- 
joining alcove  was  an  electric  keyboard  on 
which  an  expert  electrician  played,  and,  presto  I 
at  every  touch  of  his  fingers  new  successions  of 
wonderful  effects  appeared.  Every  empanelled 
mirror  became  an  endless  vista  reflecting  and 
repeating  indefinitely  the  pillars  and  arches  and 
the  bouquets  of  light  whose  colors  changed  with 
every  breath  in  an  "  Arabian  Nights  "  dream  of 
enchantment.  In  the  infinite  distance  stretched 
away  pillared  arch  and  stately  tower,  pillars  that 

6 


THE   FLORE^XE   OF   LANDOR 

were  all  aflame  in  deep  rose-red,  with  arches  of 
alabaster  and  pearl ;  innumerable  bouquets  of 
rare  flowers  floated  in  the  air  ;  the  arches  were 
of  emerald  changing  to  gold,  to  turquoise,  to 
silver  gray,  to  amethyst ;  and  down  those  mar- 
vellous pillared  halls,  which  had  no  existence  save 
in  Illusion,  troops  of  dancers  whirled  and  flights 
of  tropical  birds  surprised  the  air.  The  land 
of  faery,  the  scenes  and  the  actors  that  never 
existed  on  sea  or  land,  sprang  into  light  and  life 
and  motion  at  the  touch  of  the  electrician  on 
the  keys.  The  Realm  of  JNIagic  opened  and 
beckoned  one  to  enter.  Never  was  there  em- 
bodied a  more  vivid  symbol  of  life  than  was  pre- 
sented in  this  triumph  of  French  genius,  —  the 
Salle  des  Illusions.  One  could  not  but  read  into 
it  the  significance  that  invests  the  gaze  into  fu- 
tiu'ity.  As  the  touch  of  the  electrician  on  the 
keyboard  called  into  being  all  that  bewildering 
phantasmagoria  that  fascinated  the  imagination, 
so  a  man's  own  touch  on  the  subtle  potencies  of 
personality ;  on  those  attractions  and  repulsions 
that  pervade  the  social  atmosphere  and  dominate 
all  its  relations :  his  advances  and  retreats,  his 
faiths  and  his  doubts,  —  all  that  constitutes  his 
impress   on  life,  —  summon    before   him   those 

7 


THE    FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

groups  and  attendant  circumstances  which  he 
will  encounter  in  his  journey  on  into  the 
unknown   future. 

'  AUons  !    after    the   great    Companions,   and    to   belong   to 
them  ! 
They,  too,  are  on  the  road  —  they  are  the  swift  and  majestic 
men  —  they  are  the  greatest  women." 

For  Landor,  indeed,  the  "great  Companions" 
were  on  their  way.  What  a  note  of  truth  was 
touched  by  Dickens  when  he  said  that  the  people 
whom  we  are  to  meet,  and  who  are  to  meet  us, 
are  all  approaching  ;  and  what  they  are  to  do  for 
our  lives,  and  we  for  theirs,  will  all  be  done. 
There  are  "  the  beings  born  under  the  same  star;" 
there  are  those  who  are  to  us  as  "  merely  the  fur- 
niture of  the  world  ; "  but  the  relations  in  each 
case  are  as  fixed  and  as  unerring  as  those  of 
the  stars  in  their  courses.  "Any  one  watching 
keenly  the  stealthy  convergence  of  human  lots," 
says  George  Eliot,  "  sees  a  slow  preparation  of 
effects  from  one  life  on  another,  which  tells  like 
a  calculated  irony  on  the  indifference  or  the 
frozen  stare  with  which  we  look  at  our  unintro- 
duced  neighbor.  Destiny  stands  by  sarcastic 
with  our  draviatis  personce  folded  in  her  hand." 

8 


\  I  \     IdliN  Mil'oNi. 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LAXDOR 

Destiny  stood  by  as  A\^altcr  Savage  Landor 
entered  Florence  that  April  day  and  saw  the 
Campanile,  "a  lily  in  stone,"  rising  into  the 
Italian  sky,  and  the  Veiled  Figure,  Destiny, 
held  folded  in  her  hand  the  dramatis  pci'soncc 
of  that  wonderful  Anglo-Florentine  group  who 
were  destined,  during  the  Landor  period  of  1821- 
18G4,  to  leave  a  new  impress  upon  the  romantic 
atmosphere  of  this  Flower  of  all  Cities  and  City 
of  all  Flowers. 

The  Florence  of  Landor  differed  little,  in 
outward  aspect,  from  the  Florence  of  to-day. 
No  annual  influx  of  thirty  thousand  spring 
tourists,  it  is  true,  then  made  vocal  the  Via 
Tornabuoni  with  their  conversational  raptures, 
expressed  almost  as  invariably  in  English  as  are 
any  fragments  of  conversational  interchange  one 
may  chance  to  hear  on  Fifth  Avenue,  as  the 
tide  of  Florentine  tourists  loiters  before  window 
display's  of  Italian  art,  or  pauses  by  the  gi'im 
and  massive  walls  of  the  ancient  Strozzi  palace 
against  which  a  flower  vendor  piles  his  masses  of 
roses  and  lilies  and  deep-hearted  pui^ple  pansies. 
The  narrow  fourteenth-century  streets  were 
lined  then,  as  now,  with  lofty  sculptured  palaces. 
The  picturesque  Piazza  Trinita,  which  forms  the 

9 


THE   FLOREXCE   OF   LANDOR 

connecting  link  between  the  Lung'  Arno  and 
the  Tornabuoni,  is  still  unchanged,  and  the 
tourist  of  to-day  crosses  it  now,  as  then,  to  enter 
the  busy,  modern  street  of  Florence,  where  the 
rush  of  life  is  in  strange  contrast  with  the  medias- 
val  walls  of  the  Palazzo  Strozzi.  In  front  of  the 
Palazzo  Buondelmonte  is  a  granite  column  taken 
from  the  Thermes  of  Anthonin  in  Rome  and 
given  to  Cosimo  1  by  Pius  IV.  It  was  erected 
here  in  1565,  and  in  1581  Francesco  Ferruci  (il 
Tadda)  added  the  capital  to  the  shaft  and  the 
Statue  of  Justice,  which  crowns  it,  sculptured 
of  porphyry.  Just  opposite  this  column  is  a  very 
ancient  embattled  palace,  which  was  erected  in 
the  thirteenth  century  by  the  Spini  family,  who 
date  back  to  the  very  founding  of  Florence,  and 
who  were  active  participants  in  all  its  life  until 
late  in  the  seventeenth  century,  when  their  name 
and  estates  were  seized  upon  by  the  Tagnalia, 
from  which  family  they  passed  to  the  Pitti. 
The  arms  of  the  Spini  were  a  red  shield  with 
designs  in  gold.  At  the  junction  of  the  Via 
delle  Vigna  Nuova  and  the  Via  Tornabuoni  there 
stood  in  Landor's  day,  as  in  our  own,  the  old 
palazzo  which  Sir  Robert  Dudley,  Duke  of 
Northumberland,    bought    in    1613    from    the 

10 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Rucellai  and  entirely  rebuilt.  Sir  Robert  was  the 
son  of  Amy  Robsart  and  the  Earl  of  Leicester, 
as  will  be  remembered,  and  as  the  Earl  was  the 
favorite  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  that  sovereign  did 
not  allow  his  marriage  to  be  recognized,  and 
Sir  Robert  was  not  allowed  to  use  his  title  in 
England.  He  was  a  brilliant  man,  rendering 
important  services  to  navigation,  but,  being  de- 
prived of  his  title,  he  left  England  and  in  1G12 
sought  refuge  in  Florence,  where  he  enjoyed  the 
confidence  and  close  friendship  of  Cosimo  II,  tlie 
son  of  Ferdinando  I,  and  the  gi'andson  of  the  first 
Cosimo.  The  marriage  of  Cosimo  II  with  the  Du- 
chessa  Eleanora  di  Toledo  was  a  brilliant  event, 
and  on  the  upper  floors  of  the  old  Palazzo  Vecchio 
they  set  up  their  household  gods  until,  after  the 
Duchessa  purchased  the  Palazzo  Pitti,  their  resi- 
dence was  transferred  to  that  Cyclopean  edifice. 
The  rooms  which  they  occupied  in  the  Palazzo 
Vecchio,  with  their  richly  inlaid  cabinets,  with 
sofas  and  chairs  in  scarlet  brocade  and  tarnished 
gold,  and  ^vith  their  richly  decorated  ceilings,  are 
still  shown  to  the  visitor,  who,  after  loitering 
away  a  morning  in  this  haunting-place,  seeks  the 
covered  passage-way  that  connects  the  Uflfizi  gal- 
leries with  the  Pitti  palace  and  walks  through  it 

11 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

still  in  a  dream  of  reminiscence.  After  the  death 
of  the  Diichessa  Eleanora,  Cosimo  mamed  again, 
and  the  celebrated  Prince  Giovanni,  the  architect 
of  the  Capello  di  Medici,  was  the  son  of  this  mar- 
riage. Prince  Giovanni  and  Francesco  I  were 
therefore  half  brothers,  and  during  Francesco's 
reign  he  commissioned  Prince  Giovanni  as  Am- 
bassador to  Venice  to  present  the  thanks  of  Flor- 
ence for  the  acknowledgment  of  Bianca  Capello, 
and  also  sent  him  to  Spain  on  the  coronation  of 
Philip  III.  Francesco  married  Johana  of  Austria, 
a  sister  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian,  but  the  ro- 
mance of  his  life,  his  love  for  Bianca  Capello, 
proved  to  be  its  tragedy  also.  The  eldest  child 
of  Francesco's  marriage  with  Johana  of  Austria 
was  Marie  (born  in  1573),  who  became  the 
Queen  of  Henri  IV  of  France. 

After  the  death  of  his  wife,  Francesco  inspired 
the  murder  of  Pietro  Buonaventuri,  the  husband 
of  Bianca  Capello,  that  he  might  marry  his  en- 
chantress, and  they  lived  together  for  seven  years. 
Their  deaths  occurred  within  less  than  forty-eight 
hours  of  one  another  in  their  villa  at  Pof^ffio  a 
Caino,  both  the  victims  of  poison,  given  them  by 
Cardinal  Ferdinando,  to  whom  the  throne  then 
passed.     In  1589  he  renounced  his  cardinal's  hat 

12 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LAXDOR 

and  married  Christine  of  Lorraine,  and  it  was  his 
eldest  son,  Cosimo  II,  who  was  the  sovereign  to 
reeeive  Sir  Robert  Dudley  and  invest  him  with 
the  title  of  Duke  of  Northumberland.  The 
reign  of  Francesco  was  characterized  by  great 
devotion  to  poetry  and  art,  and  by  the  enrich- 
ment of  Florence  with  many  beautiful  works. 
Ferdinando  died  on  February  7,  1008,  and  to 
his  successor,  Cosimo  II,  is  due  the  perpetual 
gratitude  of  all  who  know  and  love  the  Tuscan 
capital.  For  he  was  a  noble  and  generous  prince, 
with  great  wisdom  in  statecraft,  gi*eat  interest  in 
the  welfare  of  his  people,  and  the  most  generous 
patron  of  the  arts.  It  was  he  who  called  Galileo 
to  Florence.  The  great  astronomer,  the  seer  in 
the  mysteries  of  the  universe,  born  in  Pisa  in 
1566,  was,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three,  invited  to 
a  professorship  in  the  university  of  his  native 
city.  He  held  this  chair  for  twenty-eight  years, 
until,  in  1592,  his  advanced  ideas  precipitated 
upon  him  the  usual  fate  of  those  who  dare 
see  and  proclaim  truth  beyond  that  generally 
accepted.  Galileo  was  forced  to  resign  his  chair 
and  subjected  to  criticism  as  ignominious  as  it 
wds  ignorant. 

"  The  hero  is  not  fed  on  sweets." 
13 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Personal  martyrdom  is  the  price  not  unfre- 
quently  paid  for  devotion  to  truth.  Yet  progi'ess 
is  a  law  as  irresistible  as  that  of  gi*avitation  and 
always  is  it  true  that 

"...  thro'  the  ages  one  increasing  purpose  runs, 
And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widen'd  with  the  process  of 
the  suns." 

Galileo,  resigning  his  chair  at  Pisa,  proceeded 
to  Padua  where  he  taught  for  twenty  years,  and 
where  he  made  many  of  his  most  remarkable  dis- 
coveries. He  was  called  to  Florence  by  Cosimo 
II.  It  was  here  that  he  published  his  book 
explaining  the  Copernican  system,  stating  the 
movement  of  the  earth  around  the  sun,  which 
the  tribunal  of  the  inquisition  in  Rome  denounced 
as  failing  in  reverence  to  the  Bible. 

Galileo  was  condemned  to  the  prisons  of  the 
inquisition,  but  the  Pope  finally  commuted  his 
sentence,  establishing  his  residence  in  the  gar- 
dens of  Santa  Trinita  al  Monte.  The  original 
letter  written  by  the  inquisitor  of  Florence  to  the 
archbishop  informing  him  of  Galileo's  condem- 
nation, is  still  preserved  in  the  Torre  del  Gallo, 
the  tower  from  which  the  great  astronomer 
made  his  observations.  INIilton  visited  him  in 
1C38.     As  is  well  known,  Galileo  died  in  1642, 

u 


THE  FLORENCE   OF   LAXDOR 

and  his  tomb  is  in  Santa  Croce.  His  researches 
and  inventions  of  the  pendulum,  of  the  hydro- 
static bahuice,  the  thermometer,  the  compass, 
and  the  telescope,  together  with  his  discovery 
of  the  law  by  which  the  velocity  of  falling 
bodies  is  accelerated,  impressed  the  brilliant 
mind  of  Cosimo  H,  who  did  all  in  his  power 
to  protect  the  great  scholar  and  diviner  of  the 
laws  of  the  universe. 

Sir  Robert  Dudley  found  in  this  wise  sovereign 
a  friend  who  appreciated  his  vast  treasures  of 
learning,  and  Sir  Robert,  on  his  part,  gladly 
served  Cosimo  and  the  Florentines,  whom  he 
grew  to  love  and  to  regard  as  his  adopted 
countrymen.  Cosimo  II  married  oNlaria  Madda- 
lena,  the  daughter  of  the  Archduke  Carlo  of 
Austria.  They  had  eight  children,  of  whom  the 
second  son  became  Cardinal  Leopoldo  (born  in 
1617  and  died  in  1675),  the  noted  patron  of  art 
and  the  founder  of  the  great  galleries  of  the 
Uffizi.  Cosimo  II  died  in  1620.  Sir  Robert 
Dudley  lived  on  in  Florence,  in  this  old  palace, 
until  1649,  when  he  died  and  was  entombed 
in  the  old  church  of  San  Pancrazio  in  an  ad- 
joining street  —  a  church  whose  origin  is  so 
remote  that  it  was  considered  an  old  church  in 

15 


THE   FLORExVCE   OF  LANDOR 

the  eleventh  century.  So  here  at  last  rest  the 
mortal  remains  of  the  son  of  the  ill-starred  Amy 
Robsart,  and  one  reads  "  Kenilworth  "  again  in 
Florence  with  renewed  interest  because  of  Sir 
Robert's  life  in  this  city. 

The  rooms  in  Sir  Robert  Dudley's  old  palace 
are  eloquent  of  the  past.  Great  mirrors  in  their 
carved  frames  of  heavy  gilt ;  sofas  and  chairs  in 
rich  brocade,  faded  and  dim,  and  massive  old 
tables  —  all  these  adorn  the  spacious  salons,  in 
none  of  which  is  there  the  slightest  possibility  of 
any  heat.  There  are  no  fireplaces,  and,  as  there 
are  no  chimneys,  there  cannot,  of  course,  be 
stoves ;  and  when,  in  the  winter  of  1900,  the 
Theosophical  Society  of  Florence  held  its  meet- 
ings in  these  salons,  the  difference  between  the 
essentials  of  existence  required  three  hundred 
years  ago,  and  required  to-day  was  keenly  per- 
ceived. For  Sir  Robert's  furniture  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  left  much  to  be  desired  in  the  way 
of  ordinary  comfort,  and  even  the  liberal  oppor- 
tunities of  surveying  oneself  in  half  a  dozen  im- 
mense mirrors  did  not  compensate  for  the  lack 
of  any  heat  on  a  cold  day  when  the  keen  winds 
swept  down  from  the  snow-crowned  Apen- 
nines, or  for  the  lack  of  a  comfortable  chair  on 

16 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LAXDOR 

which  to  sit  while  Hstening  to  Mr.  Chjiterjii's 
eloquence.  Sir  Roberts  richly  decorated  ceil- 
ings loomed  above  the  heads  of  the  faithful  who 
gathered  in  pursuit  of  Yoga,  and  Sir  Robert's 
icy  cold  marble  floors  were  beneath  their  feet. 
Could  any  American  with  the  national  apprecia- 
tion of  the  ludicrous  have  looked  in,  he  would 
have  keenly  enjoyed  the  scene.  In  a  vast  and  icy 
cold  salon,  with  a  marble  floor  and  a  lofty,  deco- 
rated ceiling,  its  walls  hung  with  red  satin  against 
which  old  Florentine  mirrors  and  a  few  pictures 
of  saints  and  madonnas  gleamed,  he  would  have 
discerned  a  little  group  of  shivering  men  and 
women,  their  feet  perched  on  very  modern  foot- 
stools and  incased  in  fur  overshoes  while  they 
drew  their  wTappings  as  closely  as  possible,  and 
gazed  upon  the  mobile,  brilliant,  responsive 
countenance  of  JSIr.  Chaterjii,  on  whose  words 
they  hung  with  breathless  attention. 

The  coat  of  arms  of  the  Rucellai  are  still  to  be 
seen  on  the  palace,  —  a  silver  lion  on  a  red  ground 
with  waves  of  gold  running  over  it. 

The  story  of  the  strange  lives  that  have  been 
lived  in  these  old  palaces,  in  the  centuries  gone 
from  all  sa\e  memory  could  be  dramatized  with 
little  aid  from  the  playwright's  art.     It  is  a  story 

2  17 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LAXDOR 

in  perpetual  sequence  of  the  most  impassioned 
human  Ufe  that  imagination  can  picture ;  and  to 
one  Avho  begins  to  turn  backward  the  chapters  of 
supreme  emotions  —  of  love  and  ambition  ;  of 
the  revenge  of  man,  and  the  retribution  of  fate  ; 
of  woman's  infinite  devotion  and  tenderness  of 
love,  and  man's  fierce,  conquering,  and  daring 
deeds',  of  midnight  assassinations  ;  of  lofty  pur- 
poses and  generous  fostering  of  the  arts,  of 
learning,  of  statesmanship,  and  of  the  personal 
tyranny  and  the  torture  of  persecution  in  the 
name  of  the  church ;  the  record  in  which  every 
aspiration,  every  ambition,  every  passion  known 
to  humanity  has  arisen  and  spent  itself  in  utmost 
intensity  of  appeal  —  a  history  is  read  before 
which  all  the  romance  of  all  the  world  beside 
gi'ows  pale.  Who  can  tread  the  streets  of  the 
Florence  of  to-day  and  not  feel  the  throb  and 
the  thrill  of  all  these  past  centuries  when  the 
men  and  women  whose  tombs  and  monuments 
and  palaces  the  tourist  visits  were  abroad  in 
these  same  streets  and  made  the  life  of  their 
day  ?  In  fact,  one  becomes  so  enthralled  in  the 
magnetic  spell  of  this  impassioned  past  that  he 
is  half  oblivious  to  the  panorama  of  the  hour. 
Other  cities  have  wonderful  histories,  but  only 

18 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

Florence  has  her  pages  written  in  her  streets. 
From  the  musical  bells  of  Santa  JNIaria  Novella, 
awakening  one  at  the  heroic  hour  of  five  every 
morning,  to  the  last  serenade  under  the  windows 
of  some  old  palace  at  midnight,  song  and  music 
are  vibrating  in  the  air.  One  sits  down  to  write, 
but  his  thoughts  are  dancing  to  rhythmic  melo- 
dies. The  very  atmosphere  is  entrancing,  and 
he  cannot  hold  himself  to  his  task.  All  Flor- 
ence beckons  him  out  for  saunterings.  He 
climbs  those  wonderful  terraced  hillsides,  where 
one  winds  upward,  seeing  on  either  hand  a 
wealth  of  roses  clambering  over  gi-ay  stone 
walls,  while  far  below  is  discerned  the  Duomo 
swimming  in  a  sea  of  blue  and  silver  haze.  Gaz- 
ing upward,  one  sees  old  historic  villas  on  the 
ascendincT  curves,  and  ancient  Fiesole  cro^Mis  the 
height  overlooking  all  Florence.  Far  away,  in 
shadowy  outline,  are  the  deep  forests  covering 
the  hillsides  of  Vallombrosa.  "  Every  street  and 
ten-ace  and  piazza  is  peopled  with  the  past ;  and 
although  this  past  is  closely  around  one,  yet  is 
the  present  not  less  beautiful.  The  tlirongs  that 
pass  are  the  same  in  likeness  as  those  that  brushed 
against  Dante  or  Savonarola ;  the  populace  is 
the  same  bold,  eager  people,  with  eyes  full   of 

19 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

dreams  and  lips  braced  close  for  war,  which  wel- 
comed Vinci  and  Cimabue,  and  fought  from 
JMonte-Aperto  to  Solferino.  And  as  you  go 
through  the  streets  you  will  surely  see  at  every 
step  some  graciousness  of  the  ancient  time  or 
some  poetry  of  the  present  hour,"  wi'ites  a  lover 
of  Florence. 

No  one,  however,  can  live  for  any  length  of 
time  in  this  fairest  land  on  earth,  where  the  opa- 
lescent lights  drift  over  the  purple  hills  and  lin- 
ger on  the  silver  gray  of  olive  groves  ;  where  the 
air  is  haunted  by  music  and  fragrant  with  the 
perfume  of  a  thousand  flowers  ;  where  legends 
of  the  learning  and  the  radiant  energy  of  such 
figures  as  Cosimo  di  ^ledici  and  Lorenzo  il  Ma- 
gniflco  still  enchant  the  mind,  —  no  one,  indeed, 
who  sees  the  Italian  nature  as  typically  inter- 
preted in  Dante's  startlingly  vivid  portrait  of  the 
human  soul,  can  fail  to  deeply  realize  the  poten- 
tial nature  of  Italy.  The  large  intelligence,  the 
marvellously  impressive  and  plastic  nature  of  the 
people,  their  sensitive  susceptibility,  their  keen, 
swift  sympathies,  and  their  noble  enthusiasms  all 
point  to  a  resurrection  of  all  that  is  most  glorious 
in  the  dramatic  past,  conjoined  with  all  that  is 
most  sublime  and  ennobling  in  twentieth-century 

20 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

ideals.  The  very  atmosphere  of  Italy  is  so 
cliarged  with  intellectual  and  spiritual  vitality 
that  the  slightest  disturbance  of  this  general 
energy  precipitates  it  into  individual  achieve- 
ment. It  is  the  air  of  mental  magnetism.  This 
temperamental  demand  of  the  entire  nation  re- 
quires for  its  development  and  fulfilment  larger 
and  freer  conditions  than  even  the  most  ideal 
monarchy  can  offer.  The  reign  of  Humbert 
was  one  of  the  most  unique  and  in  many  ways 
the  most  notable  in  the  history  of  continental 
politics.  His  simplicity  of  life  and  integrity  of 
purpose  were  not  more  marked  than  his  unfail- 
ing kindness  in  every  personal  form.  AVhen  a 
terrible  pestilence  ravaged  Naples  a  few  years 
ago  it  was  the  king  who  came  among  them,  who 
ministered  to  the  sick,  who  helped  to  bury  the 
dead.  Margherita  was  the  warm  patron  of  the 
arts  and  the  friend  of  scholar  and  savant.  Their 
court  was  distinguished  for  its  refinement,  its 
purity  and  simplicity,  and  for  its  recognition  of 
all  that  makes  for  noble  progi'ess. 

Still,  Italy  —  in  the  pervading  feeling  of  the 
general  people,  signally  expressed  in  a  recent 
session  of  the  Parliament  in  Rome  by  the  gi'eat- 
est  political  leaders  and  statesmen  of  the  hour  — 

21 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

demands  a  larger  freedom,  a  broader  field  of 
action  for  the  inventor,  the  economist,  the 
statesman  than  even  the  liberal  monarchy  by 
which  the  country  is  now  controlled  can  offer. 
There  was  no  revolution.  King  Victor  Emman- 
uel II  came  to  a  peaceful  throne.  He  justly 
holds  the  confidence  and  respect  of  the  nation. 
Still  the  trovatore  dclla  transizione  is  stirring 
in  the  quickening  pulse  beats,  and  a  future  awaits 
Italy  when  as  a  democracy  she  shall  rise  to  the 
full  heights  of  the  splendor  of  the  dreams  of  Maz- 
zini  and  Cavour ;  when  all  her  poetic  and  artistic 
and  profoundly  emotional  susceptibilities  shall 
be  so  reinforced  by  intellectual  vigor,  and  by  the 
magnetism  of  contemporary  progi'ess,  that  all  that 
is  greatest  and  noblest  in  the  past  shall  meet  and 
mingle  and  assimilate  itself  with  all  that  is  noblest 
and  most  enduring  in  the  inspiring  future. 

Unchanged,  too,  from  the  days  of  Landor  in 
Florence  is  the  ancient  Palazzo  Vecchio,  —  un- 
changed since  the  early  sixteenth-century  days 
when  the  gonfalonier  Capponi  had  the  mono- 
gram of  Christ,  invested  with  a  glory,  carved  in 
a  marble  decoration  above  the  principal  entrance, 
and,  in  a  last  effort  to  conquer  the  Medici,  the 
Florentines  declared  Jesus  Christ  to  be  the  King 

22 


AN   an(;ki,  ok    riiK    ixukun  \(  i.k.      I'm  Ani/iliru. 
In  the  rili:i  Odilfru,  Florence. 


THE   FLORE^XE   OF  LANDOR 

of  Florence  and  had  the  inscription  Rex  Populi 
I^lorcnfini  placed  over  the  great  doors,  an  in- 
scription changed  afterward  to  that  of  Iic\r 
rcguvi  ct  Dominus  dominantium.  The  splendid 
court  of  Amolfo,  through  which  one  passes  to  the 
massive  stone  staircases  ascending  to  the  Sala 
dei  Cinquecento,  the  Camera  di  Cosimo  I,  the 
Salotto  di  Clement  ^^[I,  and  other  historic  rooms, 
charm  the  twentieth-century  visitor  with  the 
same  splendid  colonnade  that  delighted  the  eye  of 
Cosimo  il  Vecchio.  The  Cappella  de'  Priori,  with 
its  ceiling  by  Ghirlandajo  and  its  crucifix  over  the 
altar  attributed  to  Ghiambologna,  is  precisely  as 
it  was  when  Savonarola  celebrated  here  his  last 
communion  before  his  execution  on  that  tragic 
day  of  four  hundred  years  ago.  The  magnificent 
Duomo  of  Brunelleschi ;  Santa  Croce,  the  West- 
minster Abbey,  the  Pantheon,  of  Florence  ;  San 
INIarco  with  its  cloistered  cells  forever  immortal- 
ized by  the  glory  of  Fra  Angelico ;  the  ancient 
Church  of  San  Lorenzo,  —  these  and  other  gi-eat 
landmarks  of  Florence  presented  to  Landor  the 
same  aspect  as  to  the  tourist  of  to-day,  save  that 
the  present  facade  of  the  Duomo  had  not  then 
been  placed. 

Brilliant  and  remarkable  were   the  group  of 

23 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

people  who  were  to  leave  their  impress  on  the 
Florence  of  Landor  during  the  forty  years  and 
more  of  his  life  in  this  city.  Leigh  Hunt,  Lady 
Biessington,  Francis  and  Julius  Hare  ;  that  quaint 
character,  JMr.  Kirkup  ;  the  Trollopes,  the  Brown- 
ings, Isa  Blagden,  Lady  Bulwer,  JMrs.  Anna 
Jameson,  Emerson,  Mrs.  Somerville,  the  Haw- 
thornes,  John  Kenyon,  Nathaniel  Parker  Willis, 
JMrs.  Stowe,  Margaret  Fuller  (Countess  d'  Ossoli), 
Frances  Power  Cobbe,  Theodore  Parker,  Linda 
White  (now  Mme.  Pasquale  Villari),  Kate  Field, 
Sir  Frederic  Leighton,  the  Thackerays,  Frederic 
Tennyson,  Hiram  Powers,  George  Eliot  and  Mr. 
Lewes,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Wetmore  Story, 
Swinburne,  and  others  came  and  went — or  came 
and  stayed,  during  these  years  of  Landor's  life  in 
Florence. 

It  was  in  1815  that  he  left  Tours  in  France 
(where  he  had  passed  a  year  after  his  de- 
parture from  England)  for  Milan ;  later  he  had 
sojourned  in  Como,  Pisa,  and  Pistoia,  and  he  had 
been  in  Florence  more  than  t)\"enty  years  when 
(in  1843)  Thomas  Adolphus  Trollope  came,  the 
Trollopes  being  for  some  time  the  guests  of  Lady 
Bulwer  Lytton  in  the  Palazzo  Passerini,  and 
later  taking  up  their  abode  in  the  old  Palazzo 

24 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LAXDOR 

Berti,  in  the  ominously  named  Via  dei  INIalcon- 
tenti.  It  was  a  few  years  afterwards  tluit  the 
drownings  set  up  their  liouseliold  gods  in  Casa 
Guidi,  so  that  Landor  remains  fairly  the  pioneer 
of  tlie  Anglo-Florentines  whose  fame  has  en- 
riched the  Tuscan  capital  with  even  added  glory 
and  exquisite  appreciation.  Landor's  first  home 
in  Florence  was  in  the  Palazzo  IMedici,  but  in 
1829  he  found  himself  the  possessor  of  the  Villa 
Cihcrardesca,  on  the  Fiesolean  heights,  a  villa  in- 
vested with  an  atmosphere  of  poetry  and  romance 
from  being  in  the  scenes  of  Boccaccio,  and  also 
closely  associated  with  the  haunts  of  Lorenzo  il 
INIagnifico  and  ^Lachiavelli.  It  is  on  a  terraced 
plateau  halfway  up  the  height  crowned  by  the 
ancient  city  of  Fiesole,  and  is  near  the  little  ham- 
let of  San  Domenico.  Leigh  Hunt,  writing  of 
this  beautiful  region,  says ;  — 

"  I  stuck  to  my  Boccaccio  haunts  as  to  an  old 
home.  My  almost  daily  walk  was  to  Fiesole, 
through  a  path  skirted  with  wild  myrtle  and 
cyclamen,  and  I  stopped  at  the  cloister  of  the 
Doccia  and  sat  on  the  pretty,  melancholy  plat- 
form behind  it,  reading  or  looking  through  the 
pines  down  to  Florence." 

25 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

Near  the  Villa  Landor  is  an  old  palace  with 
wide  marble  terraces  and  mysterious  gardens 
dark  with  cypress  trees,  which  was  the  home 
of  Cosimo  il  Vecchio  and  later  of  Lorenzo  il 
JMagnifico,  who  died  in  this  villa.  It  dates  back 
to  1658,  and  during  the  residence  of  Lorenzo  il 
^lagnifico  it  was  the  favorite  meeting-place  of 
the  Platonic  Academy  of  Florence.  Fiesole,  on 
the  summit,  is  invested  with  traditions  of  Milton 
and  Galileo ;  and  of  this  ancient  city,  whose 
name  as  Fa?sulae  is  even  mentioned  by  Sallust 
and  Polybius,  Hallam  wrote :  — 

"  In  a  villa  overhanging  the  towers  of  Florence 
on  the  slope  of  that  lofty  hill  crowned  by  the 
mother  city,  the  ancient  Fiesole ;  in  gardens 
which  Tully  might  have  envied,  with  Ficino, 
Landino,  and  Politian  at  his  side,  Lorenzo  de- 
lighted his  hours  of  leisure  with  the  beautiful 
visions  of  Platonic  philosophy,  for  which  the 
summer  stillness  of  an  Italian  sky  appears  the 
most  congenial  accompaniment." 

It  was  to  his  life  in  his  new  home,  the  villa 
so  embowered  in  historic  associations,  that  Lan- 
dor refers  in  the  lines  :  — 

26 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

"  From  France  to  Italy  my  steps  I  bent, 
And  pitclit  at  Arno's  side  my  household  tent. 
Six  years  the  Medicaean  palace  held 
My  wandering  Lares  ;  then  they  went  afield, 
Where  the  hewn  rocks  of  Fiesole  impend 
O'er  Doccia's  dell,  and  fig  and  olive  blend. 
There  the  twin  streams  in  Affrico  unite, 
One  dimly  seen,  the  other  out  of  sight. 
But  ever  playing  in  his  smoothened  bed 
Of  polisht  stone,  and  willing  to  be  led 
Where  clustering  vines  protect  him  from  the  sun. 
Never  too  grave  to  smile,  too  tired  to  run. 
Here  by  the  lake,  Boccaccio's  fair  brigade 
Beguiled  the  hours,  and  tale  for  tale  repaid. 
How  happy  !  O,  how  happy  had  I  been 
With  friends  and  children  in  this  quiet  scene ! 
Its  quiet  was  not  destined  to  be  mine : 
'T  was  hard  to  keep,  't  was  harder  to  resign." 

At  the  age  of  forty-six  Landor  was  still  in  the 
prime  of  youthful  maturity.  His  Hfe  had  lacked 
settled  purpose,  however,  and  his  unquestionable 
genius  was  almost  fatally  at  the  mercy  of  his 
erratic  temper  and  incalculable  moods.  His 
maiTiage  to  a  woman  whose  personal  beauty 
was  not  accompanied  by  any  corresponding  gifts 
of  mind  or  grace  of  heart  brought  to  bear  upon 
him  a  perpetually  depressing  influence  of  fric- 
tion and  annoyance  rather  than  any  sustaining 

serenity  and  sweetness.     Landor's  grave  defects 

27 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

of  temperament  were  his  own  and  in  any  case 
would  probably  have  signally  marred  the  full 
expression  of  his  great  genius  ;  but  had  his  mar- 
riage been  one  to  have  given  him  sympathy  and 
comprehension,  there  can  'be  no  question  of  the 
vi\ifying  effect  it  would  have  exerted  over  his 
entire  personal  and  artistic  life.  At  this  time 
Landor's  "  Gebir  "  and  "  Count  Julian  "  had  al- 
ready won  him  high  rank  in  poetic  art,  and  the 
damp  walls  of  his  lodgings  in  Pistoia  had  an- 
noyed him  as  they  might  ordinary  folk  who  held 
no  countersign  for  Arcady.  He  had  already 
written  one  series  of  the  unique  "  Imaginary 
Conversations,"  in  which  the  incident  of  his  visit 
to  the  Odeschalchi  palazzo  in  Como,  and  that  of 
the  children  in  a  cart  in  the  Campo  Santo  of 
Pisa,  were  depicted,  and  he  had  embalmed  in 
a  quatrain  his  fantastic  emotion  on  seeing,  at 
Pistoia,  a  lock  of  the  hair  of  Lucrezia  Borgia, 
of  which  he  wrote :  — 

"  Borgia,  thou  once  wert  almost  too  august 
And  high  for  adoration  ;  now  thou  'rt  dust. 
All  that  remains  of  thee  these  plaits  unfold. 
Calm  hair,  meandering  in  pellucid  gold." 

The  friendship  between  Landor  and  Southey 
had  already  existed  for  many  years  at  the  time 

S8 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

that  Landor  took  up  his  abode  in  Florence,  and 
their  correspondence  was  fairly  a  conversational 
companionship  in  which  literary  matters  and  the 
events  of  tiie  day  were  discussed.  "  I  am  reading 
the  stupendous  poetry  of  Wordsworth,"  wrote 
Landor  to  Southey.  "In  thoughts,  feelings, 
images  not  one  among  the  ancients  equals  him,  and 
his  language  (a  rare  thing)  is  English."  Toward 
Byron,  Landor  held  an  intense  personal  animos- 
ity ;  but  he  considered  Byron  a  great  poet,  —  "the 
keenest  and  most  imaginative  of  poets."  It  was 
Byron's  furious  assaults  upon  Southey  that 
aroused  his  indignation,  and  of  this  Landor 
said  :  — 

"While  Byron  wrote  or  spoke  against  me 
alone,  I  said  nothing  of  him  in  print  or  conversa- 
tion ;  but  the  taciturnity  of  pride  gave  way  im- 
mediately to  my  zeal  in  defence  of  my  friend. 
What  I  write  is  not  written  on  slate  ;  and  no 
finger,  not  of  Time  himself,  who  dips  it  in  the 
clouds  of  years,  can  efface  it.  To  condemn  what 
is  evil  and  to  commend  what  is  good  is  consistent. 
To  soften  an  asperity,  to  speak  all  the  good  we 
can  after  worse  than  we  wish,  is  tJiat,  and  more. 
If  I  must  understand  the  meaning  of  consistency 

29 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

as  many  do,  I  wish  I  may  be  inconsistent  with  all 
my  enemies.  There  are  many  hearts  which  have 
risen  higher  and  sunk  lower  at  his  tales,  and  yet 
Iiave  been  shocked  and  sorrowed  at  his  untimely 
death  a  great  deal  less  than  mine  has  been. 
Honor  and  glory  to  him  for  the  extensive  good 
he  did !  peace  and  forgiveness  for  the  partial 
evil ! " 

Kate  Field,  writing  of  Landor,  remarks  that 
the  friendship  existing  between  Southey  and 
Landor  must  have  had  much  of  the  heroic  ele- 
ment in  it,  for  instances  are  rare  where  two 
writers  have  so  thoroughly  esteemed  one  another. 
Those  who  have  witnessed  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  Landor  spoke  of  Southey  can  readily  im- 
agine how  unpardonable  a  sin  he  considered  it  in 
Byron  to  make  his  friend  an  object  of  satire. 
Landor's  strong  feelings  necessarily  caused  him 
to  be  classed  in  the  tout  ou  rien  school.  Seeing 
those  whom  he  liked  through  the  magnifying- 
glass  of  perfection,  he  painted  others  in  less  bril- 
liant colors  than  perhaps  they  merited.  Southey 
to  Landor  was  the  essence  of  all  good  things,  and 
there  was  no  subject  upon  which  he  dwelt  with 
more  unaffected  pleasure.     "  Ah,  Southey  was 

30 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

the  best  man  that  ever  lived.  There  never  was 
a  better,  my  dear,  good  friends,  Francis  and 
Julius  Hare  excepted.  They  were  true  Chris- 
tians ;  and  it  is  an  honor  to  me  that  two  such 
pure  men  should  have  been  my  friends  for  so 
many  years,  up  to  the  hour  of  death,"  Landor 
would  say.  It  was  to  Julius  Hare  that  Landor 
dedicated  his  greatest  work  in  the  series  of 
"  Imaginary  Conversations"  —  the  "Pericles  and 
Aspasia." 

Walter  Savage  Landor  was  bom  in  AVarwick- 
shire,  England,  on  January  30,  1775,  and  died  in 
Florence,  Italy,  on  September  17,  1864,  looking 
back  on  more  than  seventy  years  of  active  literary 
work,  for  he  won  his  first  recognition  as  a  poet 
when  a  youth  of  twenty.  He  was  the  son 
of  Dr.  Walter  and  Elizabeth  (Savage)  Landor, 
and  as  a  boy  was  a  pupil  at  Rugby  ;  entering 
Oxford  in  his  early  youth,  when,  after  one  year  of 
college  life,  he  was  suspended  for  some  infringe- 
ment of  university  laws.  Instead  of  accepting 
an  opportunity  for  reinstatement,  he  gave  him- 
self up  to  the  -v^Titing  of  "  Gebir,"  which  fairly 
mirrors  the  strong  influence  that  INIilton  at  that 
time  had  upon  the  youthful  poet.  The  appear- 
ance of  "  Gebir  "  admitted  him  at  once  to  at  least 

31 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

a  speaking  acquaintance  with  the  Immortals,  and 
the  autocratic  " Quarterly  Re\iew "  somewhat 
enigmatically  pronounced  it  a  poem  which  would 
do  any  reader  credit  to  understand.  "  Gebir  "  was 
largely  written  in  Latin  at  first,  for,  like  Milton, 
Land  or  seems  to  have  fairly  thought  and  dreamed 
in  Latin  and  absorbed  into  his  own  creative  energy 
all  its  reinforced  power  and  dignity.  The  reward 
of  "Gebir"  came  to  him,  not  merely  in  liberal 
measure  of  fair  fortune  and  fame,  but  in  a  guise 
far  more  precious  and  enduring,  —  a  friendship 
that  entered  as  a  golden  strand  into  all  his  future, 
—  that  of  Southey,  who  wrote  of  the  poem  a  fine 
critique  calling  attention  to  its  "  miraculous 
beauties ;"  and  Shelley  (born  four  years  after  its 
first  appearance)  was  absorbed  and  fascinated  by 
this  poem  during  his  undergraduate  years  at 
Oxford.  Coleridge  and  De  Quincy  read  "  Gebir  " 
with  appreciation. 

In  one  of  the  "  Imaginary  Conversations," 
that  between  Plato  and  Diogenes,  Landor  makes 
one  of  his  characters  say :  "  The  great  man  must 
have  that  intellect  which  puts  in  motion  the 
intellect  of  others,"  and  his  own  is  a  striking 
instance  of  this  power  of  communicating  vital 
suggestion. 

32 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

"  Quickened  are  they  wlio  touch  the  prophet's  bones  ;  " 

and  while  Landor  was  too  defective  in  serenity 
and  exaltation  of  vision  to  be  accorded  rank 
among  humanity's  prophets,  he  was  yet  capa- 
ble of  the  loftiest  magnanimity,  the  most  gen- 
erous nobleness.     He  was  richly   dowered  with 

"  the  hate  of  hate,  the  scorn  of  scorn,  the  love  of  love." 

He  gave  unswerving  loyalty  to  high  ideals  of 
liberty ;  his  nature  was  one  of  intense  devotion  to 
civic  and  national  progress.  Erratic  as  he  was 
by  temperament ;  liable  to  manifestations  of  irri- 
tability that  had  little  reason  to  exist,  yet  the 
*'  kernel  of  nobleness,"  as  Margaret  Fuller  called 
it,  was  always  present.  "  Great  and  even  fatal 
errors  (so  far  as  this  life  is  concerned)  could  not 
destroy  my  friendship  for  one  in  whom  I  felt  sure 
of  the  kernel  of  nobleness,"  WTote  IMargaret  in 
a  private  letter  ;  and  in  Landor's  character  this 
germ  of  nobleness  made  itself  felt  throughout 
his  somewhat  volcanic  career.  He  was  a  poet  for 
poets,  and  the  glory  of  his  art  in  verse  was  fairly 
paralleled  by  the  matchless  splendor  of  his  prose. 
Swinburne  characterizes  his  *'  Count  Julian  "  as 
"  the  sublimest  poem  published  in  our  language 
between  the  last  masterpiece  of  Milton  and  the 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

first  masterpiece  of  Shelley,"  and  reiterates  that 
between  tlie  date  of  "  Samson  Agonistes  "  and  the 
"  Prometheus  Unbound  "  no  work  in  English 
poetry  can  be  compared  to  this  lofty  tragedy.  His 
genius  was  of  the  majestic  order.  In  structural 
beauty  his  work  is  almost  flawless.  As  a  critic  he 
was  fairly  a  diviner  of  the  inner  motive  as  well  as 
of  the  degree  of  excellence  in  the  performance ; 
as,  for  instance,  when  in  a  private  letter  he  wrote 
of  Wordsworth  :  "  Common  minds  alone  can  be 
ignorant  what  breadth  of  philosophy,  what  energy 
and  intensity  of  thought,  what  insight  into  the 
heart  and  what  observation  of  nature  are  requisite 
for  the  production  of  such  poetry." 

The  early  literary  experiences  of  Landor  were 
not  without  their  chapters  of  stress  and  storm. 

A  critic  in  the  "  JNIonthly  Review  "  accused  the 
young  poet  of  borrowing  phrases  "  firom  our  in- 
comparable Milton,"  to  which  Landor  replied  that 
his  critic  disgraced  himself  in  thus  betraying  his 
own  ignorance  of  Milton,  as,  had  he  been  familiar 
with  the  immortal  bard,  he  could  not  possibly 
have  made  the  accusation.  "  I  challenge  him  to 
produce  any  expression  borrowed  from  Milton," 
\\Tote  Landor ;"...!  devoutly  offer  up  my 
incense  at  the  shrine  of  Milton.     Woe  betide  the 

34 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

intruder  that  would  steal  its  jewels  !  It  requires 
no  miracle  to  detect  the  sacrilege.  The  venerable 
saints  and  still  more  holy  personages  of  Rapliael 
or  Michael  ^\ngelo  might  as  consistently  be 
placed  among  the  Bacchanals  and  Satyrs,  be- 
striding the  goats  and  bearing  the  vases  of  Pous- 
sin,  as  the  resemblance  of  '  Paradise  Lost '  ^.ould 
be  introduced  in  *  Gebir.' " 

In  1802  Landor  first  visited  Paris,  caring,  he 
said,  for  but  two  things  in  France,  —  to  see 
Paris  and  to  see  Bonaparte.  His  enthusiasm 
for  the  leader  of  the  French  Revolution,  who 
should  galvanize  into  a  new  Hfe  decaying  nations, 
underwent  a  sea  change  which  crystallized  into  his 
lifelong  conviction  regarding  Bonaparte.  I^andor 
recognized  that  Napoleon  had  "  changed  the  sub- 
stance for  the  shadow  of  gieatness,"  and  his  view 
accorded  with  that  of  AVordsworth,  who  wrote :  — 

"  I  grieved  for  Buonaparte  with  a  vain 
And  an  unthinking  grief.   .  .   .   What  food 
Fed  his  last  hopes  ?  " 

To  Kate  Field,  Landor,  in  his  last  years,  spoke 
of  Napoleon  as  one  who  "•  fought  without  aim, 
vanquished  without  glory,  and  perished  without 
defeat ; "  and  JNIiss  Field  wrote :  "  I  looked  with 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

wonder  upon  a  person  who  remembered  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  as  a  slender  young  man,  and  listened 
with  delight  to  a  voice  from  so  dim  a  past." 

It  was  six  years  after  Landor's  return  to 
England  from  his  first  visit  to  Paris  that  he  and 
Southey  met  personally,  and  a  letter  from  Southey 
dated  April  9,  1808,  thus  refers  to  Landor  :  — 

*'  At  Bristol  I  met  the  man  of  all  others  I  was 
most  desirous  to  meet,  —  the  only  man  living  of 
whose  praise  I  was  ambitious,  or  whose  censure 
would  have  troubled  me.  ...  I  never  saw  any 
one  more  unlike  myself  in  every  prominent  part 
of  human  character,  nor  any  one  who  so  cordially 
and  instinctively  agreed  with  me  on  so  many  of 
the  most  important  subjects." 

Later  Landor  visited  Spain,  and  soon  after  his 
return  events  put  him  in  possession  of  Llanthony 
Abbey  in  Wales,  where  he  lived  for  some  years, 
and  where,  in  1811,  he  met  and  married  Julia 
Thuillier.  Soon  after  their  marriage  Southey 
and  his  wife  visited  the  Landors  at  Llanthony, 
"  and  he  always  had  a  satisfaction,"  records  John 
Forster  in  his  biography  of  Landor,  "  that  Robert 
and  Edith  Southey  were  the  first  who  shared  his 
turret." 

36 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

Unfortunately,  family  dissensions  arose,  and,  as 
we  have  seen,  Landor  and  his  wife  left  England  for 
Franee,  when,  after  one  year,  they  went  to  Milan  ; 
and  after  their  sojourns  in  that  city,  Como,  I'isa, 
and  Pistoia,  they  came  to  Florence,  in  which 
enchanted  atmosphere  the  life  of  the  poet  was 
destijied  to  be  passed,  and  where,  in  the  little 
English  cemetery,  was  laid  all  that  was  mortal 
of  him  "  who  sang  the  charms  of  Rose."  ^ 

The  life  of  Landor  extended  o\'er  three  gener- 
ations of  poets  among  his  own  countrymen : 
the  first  contemporary  group  including  Scott, 
Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Southey,  Lamb,  De 
Quincey,  Hazlitt,  and  Leigh  Hunt ;  the  second, 
Byron,  Keats,  and  Shelley ;  while  the  third 
included  Tennyson,  the  Brownings,  and  Swin- 
burne. Within  this  extended  panorama,  how- 
ever, Landor  seems  to  have  had  comparatively 
few  close  personal  affiliations ;  and  "  the  Florence 
of  Landor  "  is,  to  a  good  degree,  simply  that  of 
the  period  of  his  residence  in  it,  with  some 
glimpses  in  the  perspective  of  his  time  that 
describe  certain  phases  of  the  Florence  of  to- 

^  One  of  the  lyrics  of  Landor  begins  with  the  lines:  — 

'*  The  grave  is  open  —  soon  to  close 
On  him  who  sang  the  charms  of  Rose." 

37 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

day  ;  rather  than  that  of  a  city  of  which  he  was 
in  any  sense  a  personal  centre.  Lady  Blessing- 
ton,  who  visited  Florence  four  years  after  Landor 
had  there  established  himself,  conceived  for  him 
a  warm  friendship,  and  in  her  home  he  met 
Rachel,  who,  at  that  time,  had  not  achieved  her 
great  fame.  "  Mile.  Rachel  took  tea  with  Lady 
Blessington,"  said  Landor  to  a  friend  afterward, 
"  and  was  accompanied  by  a  female  attendant, 
her  mother  I  think.  Rachel  had  very  little  to 
say,  and  left  early,  as  she  had  an  engagement  at 
the  theatre.  There  was  nothing  particularly 
noticeable  in  her  appearance,  but  she  was  very 
ladylike.     I  never  met  her  again." 

The  beautiful  Florentine  life  lay  before  him. 
Well  might  Landor  have  felt,  with  Whitman  :  — 

"  Be  not  discouraged  —  keep  on,  there  are  divine  things  well 
enveloped ; 
I  swear  to  you  there  are  divine  things  more  beautiful  than 
words  can  tell." 

From  the  Salle  des  Illusions  of  the  future 
fascinating  forms  half  revealed  themselves,  van- 
ishing again  only  to  reappear  in  the  advanc- 
ing years  in  unforeseen  groups  and  undiscerned 
combinations,  to  lend  a  new  charm  to  enchanting 
Florence. 

38 


**  Of  all  the  fairest  cities  of  the  earth 
None  is  so  fair  as  Florence. 
.    .    .  Search  nithin, 

Without  ;  all  us  enchantment  !     'T  is  the  past 
Contending  with  the  present  ;  and  in  turn 
Each  has  the  mastery." 

"  To  sec  nothing  anywhere  but  what  you  maxf  reach  it  and  pass  it, 
To  look  up  or  down  no  road  hut  it  stretches  and  waits  for  you  — 

hoivcver  long,  hut  it  stretches  and  waits  for  you  ; 
To  see  no  being,  not  God's,  nor  any,  but  you  also  go  hither, 
To  see  no  possession  but  you  may  possess    it  —  enjoying  all 

without  labor  or  purchase  —  abstracting  the  feast,  yet  not 

abstracting  one  particle  of  it  ; 

To  know  the  universe  itself  as  a  road  —  as  many  roads  —  as 
roads  for  troubling  souls." 


II 

FROM   FIESOLE  TO   VALLOMBROSA 

But  what  need  I  of  pictures  on  ray  walls  ? 
Out  of  my  window  every  day  I  see 
Pictures  that  God  hath  painted,  better  far 
Than  Riiffaeile  or  Razzi  ;  these  great  slopes 
Covered  with  golden  grain  and  waving  vines 
And  rows  of  oUves  ;  and  then  far  away 
Dim  purple  mountains  where  cloud-shadows  drift 
Darkening  across  them  ;  and  beyond,  the  sky, 
Where  morning  dawns  and  twilight  lingering  dies. 
And  then,  again,  above  my  humble  roof 
The  vast  night  is  as  deep  with  all  its  stars 
As  o'er  the  proudest  palace  of  the  king. 

William  Wetsiore  Stort. 

On  one  of  the  picturesque  hillsides  between 
Florence  and  Fiesole  is  the  Villa  Landor  whicli 
is  said  to  have  been  built  by  Michael  Angelo. 
The  lawn  before  the  villa  is  a  large  oval  plot, 
guarded  by  solemn  rows  of  stately,  motionless 
cj^ress  ti-ees  that  stand  like  a  double  row  of 
sentinels,  spectral  and  sombre.  A  great  gate 
with  high,  stone  pillars  opens  into  the  grounds. 
From  the  wxst  and  the  south  side  of  the  villa 
tliere  are  enchanting  views  of  the  Val  d'Arno, 
with  gem-like  glimpses  of  Florence  gleaming  in 

41 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

the  heart  of  the  valley.  The  location  is  one  of 
the  choicest  in  the  environs  of  Florence.  The 
sunset  panorama  over  the  Arno,  with  the  heights 
of  Bellosg'uardo  and  San  Miniato  in  the  dis- 
tance ;  the  purple  mountains,  changing  through 
all  the  hues  of  rose  and  violet  shades,  crowned 
with  the  ancient  town  of  Fiesole  from  which 
an  Etruscan  tower  looks  down  ;  the  luminous 
air,  shimmering  in  a  thousand  opalescent  lights, 
—  contributed  to  form  a  poetic  atmosphere  in 
which  Landor  could  dwell  as  in  a  majestic  har- 
mony. Noble  thought  and  lofty  vision  might  well 
be  the  daily  companions  of  one  thus  fittingly 
enshrined.  "  Milton  and  Galileo  gave  a  glory  to 
Fiesole  even  beyond  its  starry  antiquity,"  wrote 
Leigh  Hunt ;  "  nor  is  there,  perhaps,  a  name 
eminent  in  the  annals  of  Florence  with  which 
some  connection  cannot  be  traced  with  the  an- 
cient town." 

It  was  in  1831  that  Landor,  through  the  gen- 
erous kindness  of  an  ardent  admirer,  JMr.  Ablett 
of  North  Wales,  came  into  possession  of  the 
"  Villa  Gherardesca,"  as  it  was  then  known.  Mr. 
Ablett  had  more  than  once  manifested  his  pro- 
found appreciation  of  the  poet,  and  it  was  he 
who  gave  an  order  to  the  sculptor  Gibson  for 

42 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

a  bust  of  Landor,  a  copy  of  which  he  presented 
to  liiin.  T^andor  sent  it  to  his  sister  in  England, 
explaining  that  it  was  the  gift  of  his  "  incompa- 
rable friend,  Mr.  Ablett."  The  gift  of  the  bust 
was  closely  followed  by  the  generous  provision 
made  by  Mr.  Ablett  enabling  Landor  to  pur- 
chase for  his  home  an  estate  so  delightful  as  tlie 
\''illa  Gherardesca.  Landor  accepted  this  good 
fortune  with  great  pleasure  and  gratitude.  It 
gave  him  a  pied  a  terre  which  combined  com- 
fort and  convenience  with  that  enchantment  of 
beauty  which  the  poetic  nature  craves  as  its 
environment.  Under  date  of  ^lay  2,  1831, 
Landor  thus  "svTites  to  his  sister :  — 

"  The  children  were  all  sitting  so  comfortably 
round  the  fire  on  my  birthday,  that  they  spoilt 
my  intention  of  writing  to  you  that  evening.  .  .  . 
We  have  had  six  cold  days,  with  snow  upon  the 
Apennines,  and  a  little  of  it  about  half  a  mile 
from  my  villa.  You  will  doubtless  be  curious 
to  hear  something  of  this  villa  in  which  I  shall 
pass  the  remainder  of  my  life. 

"  Two  years  ago,  in  the  beginning  of  the 
spring,  I  took  a  walk  towards  Fiesole  with  a 
gentleman  settled  in  North  Wales,  Mr.  Ablett. 

43 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

I  showed  him  a  small  cottage  with  about  twelve 
acres  of  land,  which  I  was  about  to  take.  He 
admired  the  situation,  but  preferred  another 
house  very  near  it,  with  a  much  greater  quantity 
of  ground  annexed.  I  endeavored  to  persuade 
him  to  become  my  neighbor.  He  said  little  at 
the  time,  beyond  the  pleasure  he  should  have  in 
seeing  me  so  pleasantly  situated  :  but  he  made 
inquiries  about  the  price  of  the  larger  house,  and 
heard  that  it  was  not  to  be  let,  but  that  it  might 
be  bought  for  about  two  thousand  pounds.  He 
first  desired  me  to  buy  it  for  him  :  then  to  keep 
it  for  myself:  then  to  repay  him  the  money 
whenever  I  was  rich  enough,  —  and  if  I  never 
was,  to  leave  it  for  my  heirs  to  settle.  In  fact, 
he  refuses  even  a  farthing  of  interest.  All  this 
was  done  by  a  man  with  whom  I  had  not  been 
more  than  a  few  months  acquainted.  It  is  true 
his  fortune  is  very  large ;  but  if  others  equal 
liim  in  fortune,  no  human  being  ever  equalled 
him  in  generosity. 

"  I  must  now  give  you  a  description  of  the 
place :  the  front  of  the  house  is  towards  the 
north,  looking  at  the  ancient  tovra  of  Fiesole, 
three  quarters  of  a  mile  off.  The  hills  of 
Fiesole  protect  it  from  the  north  and  northeast 

44 


FROM    FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

winds.  The  hall  is  31  ft.  by  22,  and  20  liigh. 
On  the  right  is  a  drawing-room  22  by  20 ;  and 
through  it  you  come  to  another  26  by  20.  All 
are  20  ft.  high.  Opposite  the  door  is  another 
leading  down  to  the  offices  on  right  and  left ;  and 
between  them  to  a  terrace-walk  about  a  hun- 
dred yards  long,  overlooking  \"aldarno  and  Xai- 
lombrosa,  celebrated  by  JNlilton.  On  the  right 
of  the  downward  staircase  is  the  upward  stair- 
case to  the  bedrooms ;  and  on  the  left  are  two 
other  rooms  corresponding  with  the  two  draw- 
ing-rooms. Over  the  hall,  which  is  vaulted, 
is  another  room  of  equal  size,  delightfully  cool 
in  summer.  I  have  four  good  bedrooms  up 
stairs,  13  ft.  higli.  One  smaller  and  two  ser- 
vants' bedrooms  over  these,  10^  ft.  high.  In 
the  centre  of  the  house  is  a  high  turret,  a  dove- 
cote. The  house  is  GO  ft.  high  on  the  terrace 
side,  and  50  on  the  other ;  the  turret  is  1 8  ft. 
above  the  CO.  I  have  two  gardens  :  one  with  a 
fountain  and  fine  jet-d'eau.  In  the  two  are 
165  large  lemon- trees  and  20  orange-trees,  with 
two  conservatories  to  keep  them  in  winter.  The 
whole  could  not  be  built  in  these  days  for 
£10,000. 

"  I  am  putting  everything  into  good  order  by 

45 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

degrees  :  in  fact,  I  spend  in  improvements  what 
1  used  to  spend  in  house-rent ;  that  is,  about  £75 
a  year.  I  have  planted  200  cypresses,  GOO  vines, 
400  roses,  200  arbutuses,  and  70  bays,  besides 
laurustinas,  &c.,  &c.,  and  60  fruit  trees  of  the 
best  quahties  from  France.  I  have  not  had  a 
moment's  ilhiess  since  1  resided  here,  nor  have 
the  children.  My  wife  runs  after  colds ;  it 
would  be  strange  if  she  did  not  take  them  ;  but 
she  has  taken  none  here ;  hers  are  all  from 
Florence.  I  have  the  best  water,  the  best  air, 
and  the  best  oil  in  the  world." 


The  Florentine  sunshine  glorified  the  days  and 
Landor  entered  on  the  happiest  and  the  most 
productive  period  of  his  life.  The  home  was 
lovely  with  its  Avealth  of  flowers  and  the  pictorial 
landscape  for  which  every  window  made  a  frame. 
If  "  the  ornaments  of  a  home  are,"  as  Emerson 
says,  "  the  friends  who  frequent  it,"  the  guests 
of  Landor  indeed  illustrated  this  ideal.  Leigh 
Hunt  came  ;  Francis  and  Julius  Hare ;  Lady 
Blessington,  whose  husband,  Lord  Blessingtorf, 
had  been  one  of  Landor's  nearest  friends ;  John 
Kenyon,   the    relative    and    benefactor  of    the 

46 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

Brownings ;  Mr.  Greenough,  the  American 
sculptor,  and  Emerson.  A  few  years  before, 
Landor  had  been  the  guest  of  Lord  Blessington 
on  his  yacht,  for  a  cruise  from  Leghorn  to 
Naples.  While  there  Landor  visited  the  ruined 
temples  at  Paestum,  finding  them  "  magnificent ;  " 
but  "  Grecian  architecture  does  not  turn  into 
ruin  so  grandly  as  Gothic,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend. 
Lord  Blessington's  death  in  1829  deprived  Landor 
of  one  of  his  most  congenial  friends,  and  his 
pleasant  intercourse  with  Lady  Blessington  con- 
tinued during  the  remainder  of  her  hfe,  a  period 
of  some  eighteen  years  after  his  establishment  in 
his  Fiesolean  home.  It  was  to  the  Countess 
of  Blessington  that  Landor  wrote  the  lines  :  — 

"  Since  in  the  terrace-bower  we  sate 

While  Arno  gleam'd  below. 
And  over  sylvan  Massa  late 

Hung  Cynthia's  slender  bow. 
Years  after  years  have  past  away 

Less  light  and  gladsome  ;  why 
Do  those  we  most  implore  to  stay 

Run  ever  swiftest  by  !  " 

In  the  enjoyment  of  those  early  days  in  Villa 
L;mdor,  as  the  house  now  became  known,  the 
poet  entered  on  what  was  fairly  a  vita  nuova  in 

47 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

his  experience,  of  which  a  letter  to  his  sister 
offers  its  intimations.  "  My  country  now  is 
Italy,"  he  wrote,  "  where  I  have  a  residence  for 
life,  and  can  hterally  sit  under  my  own  vine  and 
fig-tree.  I  have  some  thousands  of  the  one  and 
some  scores  of  the  other,  with  myrtles,  pome- 
granates, lemons  and  mimosas  in  great  variety." 

In  the  spring  of  1834  Landor  received  a  visit 
from  INIr.  Nathaniel  Parker  WiUis,  then  in  the 
height  of  his  youthful  fame,  who  took  from  the 
poet  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Lady  Blessing- 
ton  in  London.  To  Mr.  Willis,  Landor  com- 
mitted the  manuscript  of  the  "  Examination 
of  WilHam  Shakespeare  for  Deer- Stealing  "  to 
convey  to  London,  where  it  was  published  the 
following  autumn. 

Lady  Blessington's  fi'iendship  and  his  own 
charm  of  personality  insured  to  JNIr.  Willis  a 
brilliant  social  recognition  in  London.  His 
poems  were  widely  read,  and  he  was  himself 
welcomed  into  a  society  of  distinguished  people 
in  a  manner  most  gratifying  to  an  ardent  and  en- 
thusiastic young  poet,  keenly  sensitive  and  deeply 
appreciative  of  the  honor  and  of  the  enjoyable 
and  sympathetic  atmosphere  which  surrounded 
him. 

48 


FROM   FIESOI.E   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

Leigh  Hunt  had  been  sojourning  for  some  time 
in  Pisa  and  in  Genoa,  and  liad  fled  to  Florence 
as  a  refuge  from  the  sorrows  and  disappointments 
that  attended  him.  He  became  enamoured  of 
JVIaiano,  a  little  hamlet  on  one  of  the  Fiesolean 
hills,  where  he  wandered  dreaming  of  Boccaccio. 
He  was  apparently  anticipating  the  sweet  coun- 
sel of  Longfellow  in  the  lines  :  — 

*'  If  thou  art  worn  and  hard  beset 
With  sorrows,  that  thou  would'st  forget, 
Go  to  the  woods  and  hills  !     No  tears 
Dim  the  sweet  look  that  Nature  wears." 

Boccaccio  had  laid  the  two  scenes  of  his  "  De- 
cameron "  on  both  sides  of  Maiano.  The  two 
little  rivulets,  the  AfFrico  and  the  Mensola,  were 
metamorphosed  into  the  lovers  in  his  "  Nimphale 
Fiesolano  ; "  and  the  deep  ravine  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill  was  the  "  Valley  of  the  Ladies."  Near 
at  hand,  too,  was  the  Villa  Gherardi,  where  Boc- 
caccio had  lived.  "  Every  spot  around  was  an 
illustrious  memory,"  ^Tote  Forster.  "  To  the 
left,  the  house  of  Machiavelli ;  still  farther  in 
that  direction,  nestling  amid  the  blue  hills,  the 
white  village  of  Settignano,  where  Michael  An- 
gelo  was  born  ;  on  the  banks  of  the  neighboring 

4  49 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

IMugnone,  the  house  of  Dante  ;  and  in  the  back- 
ground, Gahleo's  villa  of  Arcetri  and  the  palaces 
and  cathedrals  of  Florence.  In  the  thick  of  this 
noble  landscape,  forming  part  of  the  village  of 
San  Domenica  di  Fiesole,  stood  the  villa  which 
had  now  become  Landor's.  The  Valley  of  the 
Ladies  was  in  his  grounds ;  the  AfFrico  and  the 
JNIensola  ran  through  them  ;  above  was  the  ivy- 
clad  convent  of  the  Doccia,  overhung  with 
cypress ;  and  from  his  iron  entrance-gate  might 
be  seen  Valdarno  and  Vallombrosa." 

Charles  Armitage  Brown,  whose  special  title 
to  literary  immortality  is  in  that  he  was  the 
near  friend  of  Keats,  had  at  this  time  domiciled 
himself  in  the  little  convent  of  San  Baldassare 
near  Maiano,  where  Leigh  Hunt,  forsaking 
his  first  location  in  the  Via  delle  Belle  Donne 
in  Florence,  had  established  himself.  Armitage 
Brown  became  the  confidential  friend  of  Landor, 
and  the  two,  with  Leigh  Hunt,  made  up  a  con- 
genial trio.  Together  they  rambled  over  the 
Fiesolean  hills,  calling  into  life  and  light  again 
the  vanished  forms  of  Boccaccio's  "joyous  com- 
pany." They  watched  the  play  of  the  twin 
streams,  the  Affrico  and  the  Mensola,  that 
wound  through  Landor's  grounds.     On  a  neigh- 

50 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

boring  hill  IVIachiavelli  had  at  one  time  lived. 
Born  in  Florence,  in  the  Via  Guicciardini  (in 
14G0),  the  son  of  Bernardo  JMachiavelli,  who 
married  the  famous  Florentine  poet,  Bartolommea 
Nelh,  he  had,  in  later  years,  sought  the  Fiesolean 
hills  as  a  refuge  in  his  busy  hfe,  where,  as  Secre- 
tary to  the  Ten,  as  Ambassador  to  Rome  and  to 
France,  he  had  been  in  the  heart  of  Florentine 
activities.  From  Mr.  Brown's  windows  in  San 
Baldassare  could  be  seen  the  blue  hills  of  Setti- 
gnano,  where  Michael  Angelo  was  born  :  and 
across  the  Mugnone  rose  the  mountains  of 
Pistoia.  Florence  lay  "  clear  and  cathedralled  " 
below,  and  the  convent  of  San  Matteo,  in  Arcetri, 
where  Galileo  often  visited  his  daughter,  Maria 
Celeste,  who  had  taken  the  vows  of  a  reUgieuse^ 
gleamed  within  the  picturesque  landscape.  Leigh 
Hunt  and  Landor  were  on  terms  of  most  cordial 
intimacy,  and  Hunt  describes  Landor  as  "  living 
among  his  paintings  and  hospitalities  in  a  style 
of  unostentatious  elegance."  He  records  his  sur- 
prise at  the  limitations  of  I^andor's  library,  and 
the  incredible  extension  of  his  memory,  wiiicli 
enabled  him  to  carry  a  library  in  his  mind.  Hunt 
seems  to  have  been  deeply  impressed  by  the 
scholarship  and   the  original   gifts  of  his  host, 

51 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LAN  DOR 

and  says :  "  Speaking  of  the  Latin  poets  of 
antiquity,  I  was  struck  with  an  observation  of 
his,  that  Ovid  was  the  best-natured  of  them  all. 
Horace's  perfection  that  way  he  doubted.  He 
said  that  Ovid  had  a  greater  range  of  pleasur- 
able ideas,  and  was  prepared  to  do  justice  tg 
everything  that  came  in  his  way.  Ovid  was  fond 
of  noticing  his  rivals  in  wit  and  genius,  and  has 
recorded  the  names  of  a  great  number  of  his 
friends  ;  whereas  Horace  seems  to  confine  his 
eulogies  to  such  as  were  rich  or  in  fashion  and 
well  received  at  court."  Hunt  regarded  Landor 
as  a  Latin  poet  "  beyond  elegance,"  and  was  sur- 
prised at  the  great  vigor  of  his  prose.  "  He  is  a 
man  of  vehement  nature  and  great  delicacy  of 
imagination,"  said  Hunt,  "  like  a  stormy  moun- 
tain pine  that  should  produce  lilies." 

To  Landor,  Florence  continued  to  grow  inex- 
pressibly attractive.  "  If  I  can  do  nothing  more 
for  him,"  he  vvrote  of  his  infant  son,  "  I  will  take 
care  that  his  first  words  and  first  thoughts  shall 
arise  within  sight  of  Florence."  As  his  first 
springtime  in  Villa  Landor  came  on  he  realized 
anew  the  enchantment  of  Florence  in  the  golden 
May  days.  The  dazzlingly  blue  skies  gleamed 
through  the  transparent  air  over  the  rose-flushed 

52 


FROxM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

amethyst  of  the  hills ;  the  lilies,  the  most  won- 
derful roses  —  the  glowing  damask  —  the  pale 
yellow  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,  and  the  fragrant 
whiteness  of  orange  blossoms,  the  resplendence 
of  a  myriad  of  flowers,  made  every  turn  and  cor- 
ner rich  in  color  ;  while  every  street  and  piazza 
were  vocal  with  the  song  of  strolling  musicians. 
The  moonlight  nights  enchanted  him  with  their 
splendor,  and  the  trio  of  friends  often  enjoyed 
long  evening  drives  on  the  Lung'  Arno,  where 
they  watched  a  thousand  lights  reflected  in  the 
river,  and  the  blaze  of  brilliant  stars  above  the 
dome  of  San  Spirito  and  the  heights  of  San 
IVIiniato.  These  years  of  Landor's  life  were  rich 
in  their  intellectual  activities.  He  was  producing 
the  "  Imaginary  Conversations,"  although  the 
most  brilliant  one  of  them,  "Pericles  and  Aspa- 
sia,"  was  not  written  until  1835.  The  "  Ode  to 
Southey "  and  also  an  "  Ode  to  Wordsworth  " 
were  written,  with  much  other  verse  which  was 
largely  of  a  personal  nature. 

In  the  May  days  of  1833  Emerson  visited 
Landor  in  his  rose-embowered  villa,  receiving 
from  him  the  most  hospitable  welcome.  At 
that  time  Horatio  Greenough,  the  American 
sculptor,  was  living  in  Florence,  having  gone  to 

53 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

Italy  from  his  Cambridge  (Massachusetts)  home 
in  furtherance  of  his  art.  It  was  Mr.  Greenough 
who  conveyed  to  Emerson  Landor's  invitation 
to  dine  with  him ;  and  of  the  visit  Emerson 
wrote  in  after  years :  *'  I  found  him  noble  and 
courteous,  living  in  a  cloud  of  pictures  at  his 
Villa  Gherardesca,  a  fine  house  commanding  a 
beautiful  landscape." 

Emerson  added :  — 

"  I  had  inferred  from  his  books,  or  magnified 
from  some  anecdotes,  an  impression  of  Achillean 
wrath, — an  untamable  petulance.  I  do  not 
know  whether  the  imputation  were  just  or  not, 
but  certainly  on  this  May  day  his  courtesy  veiled 
that  haughty  mind,  and  he  was  the  most  patient 
and  gentle  of  hosts.  He  praised  the  beautiful 
cyclamen  which  grows  all  about  Florence ;  he 
admired  Washington ;  talked  of  Wordsworth, 
Byron,  Massinger,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.  To 
be  sure,  he  is  decided  in  his  opinions,  likes  to 
surprise,  and  is  well  content  to  impress,  if  possi- 
ble, his  English  whim  upon  the  immutable  past. 
No  great  man  ever  had  a  great  son,  if  Philip  and 
Alexander  be  not  an  exception ;  and  Philip  he 
calls    the  greater   man.     In   art,   he  loves   the 

54 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

Greeks,  and  in  sculpture,  them  only.  He  prefers 
the  Venus  to  everything  else,  and,  after  that, 
the  head  of  Alexander,  in  the  gallery  here.  He 
prefers  John  of  Bologna  to  Michel  Angelo ;  in 
painting,  RafFaelle  ;  and  shares  the  growing  taste 
for  Perugino  and  the  early  masters.  The  Greek 
histories  he  thought  the  only  good;  and  after 
them,  Voltaire's." 

Emerson  declared  that  Landor  "pestered"  him 
with  Southey,  and  asks  :  "  But  who  is  Southey  ? " 
The  Concord  sage  recorded  his  recollections  of 
this  visit  in  further  detail  in  regard  to  break- 
fasting with  Landor :  — 

"  He  in\ited  me  to  breakfast  on  Friday.  On 
Friday  I  did  not  fail  to  go,  and  this  time  with 
Greenough.  He  entertained  us  at  once  with 
reciting  half  a  dozen  hexameter  lines  of  Julius 
Caesar's  !  —  from  Donatus,  he  said.  He  glorified 
Lord  Chesterfield  more  than  was  necessary,  and 
undervalued  Burke,  and  undervalued  Socrates ; 
designated  as  three  of  the  greatest  of  men, 
Washington,  Phocion,  and  Timoleon.  ...  I 
had  visited  Professor  Amici,  who  had  shown  me 
his  microscopes,  magnifying  (it  was  said)  two 
thousand  diameters ;  and  I  spoke  of  the  uses  to 


THE   FLOREXCE   OF   LAXDOR 

which  they  were  applied.  Landor  despised  ento- 
inolog)%  yet,  in  the  same  breath,  said,  the  '  sub- 
hme  was  in  a  grain  of  dust.'  I  suppose  I  teased 
him  about  recent  writers,  but  he  professed  never 
to  have  heard  of  Herschel,  not  even  by  name.'' 

It  was  twenty-three  years  after  this  visit  (in 
1856)  that  Emerson  pubhshed  this  reference  to 
Landor  in  his  volume  called  "  English  Traits," 
and  it  aroused  the  vehement  protest  of  his  host. 
"  Your  '  English  Traits  '  have  given  me  great 
pleasure,"  wTote  Landor  to  Emerson,  "  and  they 
would  have  done  so  even  if  I  had  been  treated 
by  you  with  less  favor.  The  short  conversations 
we  held  at  my  Tuscan  villa  were  insufficient 
for  an  estimate  of  my  character  and  opinions. 
Twenty-three  years  have  not  obhterated  from 
my  memory  the  traces  of  your  visit  in  company 
with  that  great  man  and  glorious  sculptor  who 
was  delegated  to  erect  a  statue  in  your  Capital 
to  the  tutelary  genius  of  America.  ...  I  do  pre- 
fer Giovanni  di  Bologna  to  Michael  Angelo,  who 
is  sublime  in  conceptions  but  often  incorrect  and 
extravagant.  ...  I  am  sorry  to  have  'pestered 
you  with  Southey;'  to  have  excited  the  query, 
'  Who  is  Southey  ? '     I  will  reply,  Southey  is 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

the  poet  who  has  written  the  most  imaginative 
poem  of  any  in  our  time,  —  such  is  the  '  Curse  of 
Kehama.'  Southey  is  the  man  who  has  written 
the  purest  prose." 

Landor's  personal  affections  were  so  vehement 
that  his  friendship  for  Southey  led  him  gi'catly  to 
o\'errate  him  as  an  artist.  And  yet,  with  this 
distant  perspective  of  time,  it  is  easy  to  see  how 
a  certain  mysterious  strain  in  the  poetry  of 
Southey,  half  revealing  itself  and  then  slipping 
back  into  the  under-world  of  magic,  fascinated 
the  unagination  of  Landor. 

Emerson's  fancy  in  Florence  was  chiefly  caught 
by  the  Duomo,  of  which  he  remarked  that  it  was 
"  set  down  like  an  archangel's  tent  in  the  midst 
of  the  city." 

A  few  years  after  this  meeting  of  Emerson 
and  Landor,  Charles  Sumner  visited  Florence, 
and  by  him  Emerson  sent  to  Landor  a  gift  of 
some  books  and  a  letter  introducing  the  great 
Senator  in  wliich  he  emphasized  the  gi-eat  "  de- 
light and  instruction"  which  he  had  derived 
from  the  reading  of  Landor's  "  Imaginary  Con- 
versations," one  or  two  instalments  of  which  had 
then   appeared.     But   Emerson  always   held   of 


THE   FLORENCE  OF  LANDOR 

Landor  the  opinion  he  expressed  to  Carlyle,  that 
**  Lander's  speech  was  below  his  writing." 

The  proximity  of  the  villa  in  which  Lorenzo 
il  JNIagnifico  lived  and  died  always  fascinated 
the  imagination  of  Landor,  and  contributed  to 
the  charm  of  his  location. 

"  Lorenzo  was  a  man  of  marvellous  variety  and 
range  of  mental  power,"  writes  John  Addington 
Symonds.  "  He  possessed  one  of  those  rare  natures 
fitted  to  comprehend  all  knowledge  and  to  sym- 
pathise with  the  most  divine  forms  of  life.  .  .  . 
An  apologist  may  always  plead  that  Lorenzo  was 
the  epitome  of  his  nation's  most  distinguished 
qualities,  that  the  versatility  of  the  Renaissance 
found  in  him  its  fullest  incarnation.  ...  It  is 
nevertheless  true  that  Lorenzo  enfeebled  and  en- 
slaved Florence.  .  .  .  He  had  not  the  greatness 
to  rise  above  the  spirit  of  his  century  or  to  make 
himself  the  Pericles  of  his  Republic.  In  other 
words  he  was  adequate,  but  not  superior  to  Re- 
naissance Italy.  This,  then,  was  the  man  around 
whom  the  greatest  scholars  assembled,  at  whose 
table  sat  Poliziano,  Landino,  Marsilio  Nicino, 
Leo  Battista  Alberti,  Michael  Angelo,  Pulci  and 
Giovanni  Pico  della  Mirandola.     The  mere  men- 

58 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

tion  of  these  names  suffices  to  awaken  a  crowd 
of  memories  in  the  mind  of  those  to  whom  Ital- 
ian art  and  poetry  are  dear.  Lorenzo's  villas, 
where  this  brilliant  circle  met  for  gi-ave  discourse 
or  social  converse,  hav^e  been  so  often  sung  by 
poets  and  celebrated  by  historians  that  Careggi, 
Caffogiola,  and  Poggio  a  Cajano  are  no  less  famil- 
iar to  us  than  the  studious  shades  of  Academe." 

The  magnetism  of  all  this  scholarly  atmosphere 
still  lingers  in  the  Florentine  air.  Landor,  no 
less  than  other  poets  and  men  of  letters  av ho  have 
loved  Florence,  must  have  felt  its  power,  and  not 
the  less  in  that  his  home  was  fairly  embowered  in 
these  regions  of  the  Academe.  "  In  a  villa  over- 
hanging the  towers  of  Florence  on  the  slope  of 
that  lofty  hill  crowned  by  the  mother  city,  the 
ancient  Fiesole,  in  gardens  which  Tully  might 
have  envied,  w^ith  his  chosen  friends  at  his  side, 
Lorenzo  delighted  his  hours  of  leisure  with  the 
beautiful  visions  of  Platonic  philosophy,  for  which 
the  summer  stillness  of  an  Italian  sky  appears  the 
most  congenial  accompaniment,"  says  Hallam. 
"  As  we  climb  the  steep  slope  of  Fiesole,"  WTites 
John  Addington  Symonds,  "  or  linger  beneath 
the  rose  trees  that  shed  their  petals  from  Careggi's 

59 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

garden  walls,  once  more  in  our  imagination  the 
blossoms  of  that  marvellous  spring  unclose. 
W^hile  the  sun  goes  down  beneath  the  mountains 
of  Carrara,  and  the  Apennines  grow  purple-golden, 
and  Florence  sleeps  beside  the  silvery  Arno,  and 
the  large  Italian  stars  come  forth  above,  we  re- 
member how  those  mighty  master  spirits  watched 
the  sphering  of  new  planets  in  the  spiritual  skies. 
Savonarola  in  his  cell  below  once  more  sits  brood- 
ing over  the  servility  of  Florence,  the  corruption 
of  a  godless  church,  IMichael  Angelo,  seated 
between  Ficino  and  Poliziano,  with  the  voices 
of  the  prophets  ^'ibrating  in  his  memory,  and 
with  the  music  of  Plato  sounding  in  his  ears, 
loses  himself  in  contemplation  whereof  the  after- 
fruit  shall  be  the  Sistine  Chapel  and  the  Medi- 
cean  tombs." 

Fiesole  is  the  most  charming  of  features  in  all 
this  surrounding  landscape.  Its  ancient  cathedral 
dates  back  to  the  time  of  Nero,  when  its  first 
bishop,  San  Romolo,  a  convert  and  disciple  of  St. 
Peter,  was  sent  with  a  special  mission  to  preach 
at  Fassulas,  as  the  city  was  then  known,  and 
here,  by  the  orders  of  Nero,  the  bishop  was  im- 
prisoned and  killed  with  a  dagger.  In  the  centre 
of  the  town  is  a  little  piazza  having  the  old  cathe- 

60 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO    VALLOMBROSA 

dral  on  one  side,  while  opposite  is  a  museum  in 
which  are  collected  Etruscan  relics.  Not  far  be- 
low the  summit  of  the  hill  are  the  walls  of  a 
Roman  amphitheatre,  some  twenty  or  thirty  feet 
high,  with  flights  of  steps  cut  in  the  solid  rock 
still  remaining.  There  are  a  few  villas  on  this 
height  occupied  by  English  and  American  resi- 
dents, but  for  the  most  part  the  populace  are  the 
native  Italians  of  the  poorer  class.  Driving  from 
Fiesole  along  the  crest  of  the  mountains,  the 
view  looking  down  on  Plorence  in  its  wide  valley 
is  enchanting.  There  is  a  castle-villa,  the  Cas- 
tello  di  Vincigliata,  crowning  one  height,  that  is 
filled  with  treasures  of  art.  It  was  purchased  in 
1855  by  Mr.  Temple  Leader,  an  English  gentle- 
man, who  restored  it  in  mediaeval  style.  The  castle 
is  rich  in  artistic  objects,  among  which  are  an 
Annunciation  by  della  Robbia ;  a  Last  Supper 
by  Santo  di  Tito ;  a  vast  collection  of  armor,  and 
in  the  cloisters  is  an  old  well  and  a  sarcophagus. 
The  Platonic  Academy  came,  later,  to  hold  its 
meetings  in  the  Orti  Rucellai,  in  the  old  Via  del 
Prato,  by  the  invitation  of  Bernardo  Rucellai, 
after  the  death  of  Lorenzo  and  the  banishment 
of  the  Medici.  The  famous  discourse  of  Machia- 
velli  on  Livy  was  given  before  this  assembly  ; 

61 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

and  the  eager  audience,  in  which  sat  Leo  X, 
listened  also  to  Giovanni  Rucellai,  who  read  be- 
fore it  the  first  Italian  tragedy,  "  Rosamunda." 
The  literary  character  of  the  Academy  was 
changed  in  1520  to  a  political  one,  and  a  con- 
spiracy was  formed  against  the  Medici  and  Car- 
dinal Giulio ;  but  the  Rucellai,  being  friends  of 
the  Medici,  opposed  this  scheme,  and  their  palace 
and  garden  were  therefore  laid  in  ruins  by  the 
people ;  and  the  remains,  to-day,  may  be  seen 
in  the  Castello  di  Vincigliata.  On  this  drive, 
too,  one  comes  upon  Settignano,  where  Michael 
Angelo  was  born,  —  Settignano  with  its  head- 
less statue  covered  with  inscriptions. 

At  San  Salvi,  a  little  farther  on  this  beautiful 
drive  on  the  hills  looking  down  on  Florence,  is 
the  old  convent  of  San  Salvi,  in  which  is  treasured, 
in  the  refectory,  the  noted  Cenacolo  of  Andrea 
del  Sarto,  to  which  Mrs.  Jameson  assigns  the  third 
rank  in  art  after  those  of  Leonardo  and  Raphael. 

The  old  church  of  San  Martino  a  Mensola,  a 
gray,  mediaeval  structure,  is  passed,  and  one  re- 
calls a  story  told  that  runs :  — 

"  The  church  was  restored  by  St.  Andrew,  the 
companion  of  St.  Ornatus,  the  Irish  missionaiy 

62 


FROM    FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

bishop  of  Fiesole.  He  established  a  monastery 
near  the  chiircli,  wliere  he  died  soon  after  liis  mas- 
ter, miraeulously  eomforted  on  his  deatlibed  by 
the  presence  of  his  sister,  Bridget,  whom  he  had 
left  in  Ireland  forty  years  before,  and  in  a  glorious 
radiance  of  light,  '  which  drew  all  the  people  of 
Fiesole  around  him,  as  if  summoned  by  a  heavenly 
trumpet.'  After  his  death  Bridget  lived  in  a  her- 
mitage at  Opacum,  now  Lebaco,high  in  the  moun- 
tains, till  her  death  in  870.  The  embalmed  body 
of  St.  Andrew  rests  beneath  the  high  altar.  For- 
merly the  holy  water  basin  rested  on  a  pedestal 
inscribed  '  Help,  Help,  Ghod '  —  a  relic  of  the 
Irish  St.  Andrew's  rule.  Some  ancient  arches 
and  several  curious  pictures  remain  in  the  church, 
which  was  restored  by  the  Gherardi  in  1450. 
The  church  in  the  Via  del  Margazzini  at  Florence 
was  founded  by  St.  Andrew  in  786  in  connection 
with  St.  JMartino  a  JMensola." 

Ah!  what  a  dream  of  enchantment  it  is  to 
look  from  the  encircling  crest  of  these  lofty  hills 
towering  above  fair  Florence,  where  the  Val 
d'Arno  is  at  moments  suffused  with  an  impalpa- 
ble blue  haze,  in  which  the  vast  Duomo,  the  pic- 
turesque tower  of  Palazzo  Vecchio,  the  domes  of 

63 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

San  Lorenzo  and  San  Spirito,  and  the  aerial  spires 
and  battlements  of  Santa  Croce  seem  swimming 
as  in  the  blue  sea.  Across  the  valley  rises  the 
height  of  San  Miniato,  with  its  stately,  noble  cy- 
press trees  and  old  terraces  and  bridges  ;  numer- 
ous massive  villas  and  clusters  of  villages  sparkle 
amid  the  terraced,  tree-embowered  heights  sur- 
rounding this  exquisite  city  ;  the  glass  of  the 
windows  in  loggias  and  roofs  glitters  like  a  million 
diamonds  studding  the  landscape. 

The  Torre  del  Gallo  —  Galileo's  tower  —  is 
one  of  the  objects  pointed  out  on  these  hills,  and 
it  vidll  be  remembered  that  Milton  alluded  to  it 
in  the  lines  :  — 

"  The  moon,  whose  orb 
Through  optic  glass  the  Tuscan  artist  views 
At  evening  from  the  top  of  Fiesole, 
Or  in  Valdamo,  to  descry  new  lands, 
Rivers,  or  mountains  in  her  spotty  globe." 

In  "  Pascarel,"  we  find  this  most  perfect  and 
poetic  description :  — 

"  He  took  me  up  the  Star  Tower  of  Galileo 
among  the  winding  paths  of  the  hills,  with  the 
gray  walls  overtopped  by  white  fruit  blossoms, 
and  ever  and  again,  at  some  break  in  their  ram- 

64 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

parts  of  stone,  the  gleam  of  the  yellow  Amo 
water,  or  the  glisten  of  the  marbles  of  the  city 
shining  on  us  far  beneath,  through  the  silvery 
veil  of  the  olive  leaves.  It  was  just  in  that  love- 
liest moment  when  winter  melts  into  spring. 
Every^vhere  under  the  vines  the  young  corn  was 
springing  in  that  tender  vivid  greenness  that  is 
never  seen  twice  in  a  year.  The  sods  between 
the  furrows  were  scarlet  with  the  bright  flame  of 
wild  tulips,  with  here  and  there  a  fleck  of  gold 
where  a  knot  of  daffodils  nodded.  The  roots  of 
the  olives  were  blue  with  nestling  pimpernels  and 
hyacinths,  and  along  tlie  old  gray  walls  the  long, 
soft,  thick  leaf  of  the  arums  grew,  shading  their 
yet  unborn  lilies.  The  air  was  full  of  a  dreamy 
fi'agi'ance ;  the  bullocks  went  on  their  slow  way 
with  flowers  in  their  leathern  frontlets  ;  the  con- 
tadini  had  flowers  stuck  behind  their  ears  or  in 
their  waistbands  ;  women  sat  by  the  wayside ; 
singing  as  they  plaited  their  yellow,  curling 
lengths  of  straw ;  children  frisked  and  tumbled 
like  young  rabbits  under  the  budding  maples ; 
tlie  plum  trees  strewed  the  green  landscape  with 
flashes  of  white  like  newly-fallen  snow  on  Alpine 
grass  slopes ;  again  and  again  among  the  tender 
pallor  of  the  olive  woods  there  rose  the  beautiful 
5  65 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

flush  of  a  rosy  almond  tree ;  at  every  step  the 
passerby  trod  ankle  deep  in  violets. 

"  About  the  foot  of  the  Tower  of  Galileo  ivy 
and  vervain,  and  the  INIadonna's  herb,  and  the 
white  hexagons  of  the  stars  of  Bethlehem  grew 
among  the  grasses  ;  pigeons  paced  to  and  fro  with 
pretty  pride  of  plumage  ;  a  dog  slept  on  the  flags  ; 
thfe  cool,  moist,  deep-veined  creepers  climbed 
about  the  stones ;  there  were  peach  trees  in  all 
tlie  beauty  of  their  blossoms,  and  everywhere 
about  them  were  close-set  olive  trees,  with  the 
ground  between  them  scarlet  with  the  tulips 
and  the  wild  rose  bushes.  From  a  window  a 
girl  leaned  out  and  hung  a  cage  among  the  ivy 
leaves,  that  her  bird  might  sing  his  vespers  to  the 
sun.  Who  will  may  see  the  scene  to-day.  The 
world  has  spoiled  most  of  its  places  of  pilgrimage, 
but  the  old  Star  Tower  is  not  harmed  as  yet, 
where  it  stands  among  its  quiet  garden  ways 
and  grass-grown  slopes,  up  high  among  the  hills, 
with  sounds  of  dripping  water  on  its  court,  and 
wild  wood  flowers  thrusting  their  bright  heads 
through  its  stones.  It  is  as  peaceful,  as  sim- 
ple, as  homely,  as  closely  girt  with  blossoming 
boughs  and  with  tulip  crimsoned  flowers  now 
as  then,  when,  from  its  roof  in  the  still  mid- 
66 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VxVLLOxMBROSA 

night  of  far-off  Fiesole  Galileo  read  the  secrets 
of  the  stars." 

Italy,  that  once  imprisoned  Galileo  in  chains, 
now  reverences  his  name.  The  world  usually 
stones  its  prophets  and  its  saviours,  but  in  the  end 
the  visions  and  the  truth  triumph  and  lend  their 
exaltation  and  force  to  the  onward  progress  of 
humanity.  How  sublime  is  the  appreciation  of 
Galileo  by  Sir  John  Herschel,  who  said  of  the 
moment  of  his  first  discovery :  — 

"What  a  moment  of  exultation  for  such  a 
mind  as  his !  But  as  yet  it  was  only  the  da\vn 
of  day  that  was  coming  ;  nor  was  he  destined  to 
live  till  that  day  was  in  its  splendor.  The  great 
law  of  gravitation  was  not  yet  to  be  made  known  ; 
and  how  little  did  he  think,  as  he  held  the  instru- 
ment in  his  hand,  that  we  should  travel  by  it  as 
far  as  we  have  done ;  that  its  revelations  would 
ere  long  be  so  glorious  I " 

The  drive  from  Florence  to  Fiesole  passes 
near  the  Villa  Palmieri,  the  home  of  ^latteo 
Palmieri,  whose  poem,  "  La  Citta  della  Vita," 
inspired  Botticelli  to  paint  his  '*  Assumption," 
which  is  to  be  seen  in  the  National  gallery  in 

67 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Florence.  It  is  this  villa  which  Queen  Victoria 
occupied  in  her  visit  to  Florence  in  1888.  The 
road  winds  up  beautiful  terraces,  with  the  silver 
gray  of  olive  orchards  gleaming  under  the  purple 
cloud-shadows  that  flit  over  the  hillsides,  and 
the  glow  of  tulips  and  the  faint  pink  of  almond 
blossoms  contrast  with  the  delicate  green  of  the 
fields. 

From  the  terraced  piazza  in  Fiesole  is  another 
of  those  marvellous  views  over  the  Val  d'Arno, 
with  Florence  and  other  towns  surrounded  by 
white  walls  gleaming  in  the  sunlight.  In  Fiesole, 
as  in  Rome,  excavations  are  constantly  being 
made,  and  new  relics  are  coming  to  light.  On 
the  side  of  the  hill  toward  Florence  the  scene 
is  one  never  to  be  forgotten.  Ruskin  has  vividly 
depicted  it  when  he  says  :  — 

"  Few  travellers  can  forget  the  peculiar  land- 
scape of  this  district  of  the  Apennine,  as  they 
ascend  the  hill  which  rises  from  Florence.  They 
pass  continually  beneath  the  walls  of  villas  bright 
in  perfect  luxury,  and  beside  cypress  hedges,  in- 
closing fair  terraced  gardens,  where  the  masses 
of  oleander  and  magnolia,  motionless  as  leaves 
in  a  picture,  inlay  alternately  upon  the  blue  sky 

68 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

their  branching  hghtness  of  pale  rose  color  and 
deep  green  breadth  of  shade,  studded  with  balls 
of  budding  silver,  and  showing  at  intervals 
through  their  framework  of  rich  leaf  and  rubied 
flower  the  far-away  bends  of  the  xVrno  beneath 
its  slopes  of  olive,  and  the  purple  peaks  of  the 
Carrara  mountains,  tossing  themselves  against 
the  western  distance,  where  the  streaks  of  mo- 
tionless cloud  burn  above  the  Pisan  sea.  The 
traveller  passes  the  Fiesolan  ridge,  and  all  is 
changed.     The  country  is  on  a  sudden  lonely." 

It  is  on  these  Fiesolan  hills  that  Cimabue 
found  Giotto,  as  a  shepherd  lad,  drawing  on  a 
rock  while  he  watched  the  sheep.  The  great 
painter,  "  who  had  already  made  the  streets  of 
Florence  ring  with  joy,"  took  Giotto  to  his  home, 
where  the  boy  became  his  most  devoted  pupil 
and  his  not  unworthy  successor. 

Not  far  above  the  piazza  of  Michael  Angelo, 
one  of  the  favorite  resorts  of  the  Florentines,  is 
the  Church  of  San  Miniato,  invested  with  legend 
and  m)i:h  and  association,  one  particularly  strik- 
ing story  being  that  of  the  founder  of  the  Val- 
lombrosa  monastery,  who  received,  as  he  felt, 
the   evidence  of  a   miracle   at   this  altar.     The 

69 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

story  runs  that  a  wealthy  and  distinguished 
young  Florentine  noble,  Giovanni  Gualberto, 
had  an  only  brother  who  was  mui'dered,  and 
he  vowed  vengeance  upon  the  assassin.  "  It 
happened  that  when  returning  from  Florence 
to  the  country  house  of  his  father,  on  the  even- 
ing of  Good  Friday,"  relates  INIrs.  Jameson,  .*'  he 
suddenly  came  upon  his  enemy  alone  and  un- 
armed. Gualberto  drew  his  sword.  The  mis- 
erable wretch  fell  upon  his  knees  and  entreated 
mercy,  adjuring  Gualberto,  by  the  memory  of 
Christ  who  had  suffered  on  that  day,  to  spare 
his  hfe.  Struck  with  compunction,  and  remem- 
bering that  Christ,  when  on  the  Cross,  had 
prayed  for  his  murderers,  Gualberto  stayed  his 
sword,  extended  his  hand,  raised  the  suppliant 
from  the  ground,  and  embraced  him."  Proceed- 
ing on  his  way,  Gualberto  entered  San  Miniato 
and  knelt  before  the  altar,  gazing  at  the  crucifix 
before  him.  A  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  and 
repentance  came  over  him,  and  he  wept,  suppli- 
cating pardon  and  mercy.  The  figure  on  the 
crucifix,  in  reply,  bowed  its  head,  and  the  miracle 
sank  deep  into  his  heart  and  changed  the  enth'e 
course  of  his  life.  He  sought  and  obtained  ad- 
mission to  the  Benedictine  order,  took  the  vows, 

70 


FROM    FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

and  became  a  monk  in  the  monastery  of  San 
jNliniato.  Here  for  years  he  hved  in  humble 
penitence,  and  at  last,  on  the  death  of  the  abbot, 
he  was  chosen  to  succeed  him.  Pere  Gualberto 
decHned,  and  betook  himself  to  solitude  in  the 
shades  of  V^allombrosa,  where  he  founded  that 
order. 

The  landscape  from  this  beautiful  height  of  San 
Miniato  has  been  thus  perfectly  pictured  by  Mr. 
Harford :  — 

"  The  view  from  San  ^Nliniato  is  best  seen 
towards  sunset.  From  an  eminence,  studded  by 
noble  cypresses,  the  Arno  meets  the  eye,  reflect- 
ing in  its  tranquil  bosom  a  succession  of  terraces 
and  bridges,  edged  by  imposing  streets  and 
palaces,  above  which  are  seen  the  stiitely  cathe- 
dral, the  Church  of  Santa  Croce,  and  the  pic- 
turesque tower  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  while 
innumerable  other  towers,  of  lesser  fame  and 
altitude,  crown  the  distant  parts  of  the  city,  and 
the  banks  of  the  river,  which  at  length  —  its 
sjnuous  stream  bathed  in  liquid  gold  —  is  lost 
sight  of  amidst  the  rich  carpet  of  a  vast  and 
luxuriant  plain,  bounded  by  lofty  Apennines. 
Directly  opposite  to  the  eye  rises   the  classical 

71 


THE   FLOREXCE   OF   LANDOR 

height  of  Fiesole,  its  sides  covered  with  inter- 
mingled rocks  and  woods,  from  amidst  which 
sparkle  innumerable  villages  and  villas." 

This  panorama  lies  before  the  eye  when  linger- 
ing on  the  piazza  of  San  Miniato.  This  church, 
like  Santa  Croce,  is  soinething  of  a  campo  santo, 
and  it  contains  a  chapel  built  by  Michelozzo  for 
Piero  de'  ISIedici.  This  chapel  contains  the 
miraculous  crucifix  of  San  Giovanni  Gualberto, 
and  there  is  also  in  it  an  exquisite  marble  screen. 
"  Who  that  remembers  Florence,"  says  Leigh 
Hunt,  "  does  not  remember  well  the  San  Mini- 
ato alte'  Monte,  towering  on  its  lofty  eminence 
above  the  city,  and  visible  along  the  Lung'  Arno 
from  the  Ponte  alle  Grazie  to  the  Ponte  alia 
Carraja  ?  —  and  the  enchanting  views  of  the 
valley  of  the  Arno  as  seen  from  the  marble  steps 
of  the  ancient  church  —  and  the  old  dismantled 
fortress  defended  by  Michael  Angelo  against 
the  Medici  ?  —  and  the  long  avenue  of  cypresses 
and  the  declivities  robed  in  vineyards  and  olive 
gi'ounds  between  the  gate  of  San  JVIiniato  and 
the  lofty  heights  above  ?  " 

The  David  of  Michael  Angelo,  on  the  piazza 
bearing  the  name  of  the  great  artist,  is  a  colos- 

72 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

sal  figure  of  the  most  free  and  majestic  effect. 
There  are  stone  benches  placed  so  that  the  visitor 
may  sit  and  gaze  on  the  wonderful  panorama. 
In  the  late  afternoon  the  splendors  of  an  Italian 
sunset  burn  in  the  western  sky  seen  beyond  the 
old  Mozzi  palace  surrounded  by  groves.  Across 
the  valley  is  seen  the  purple  line  of  the  Carrara 
mountains  and  the  dark  slope  of  INIt.  JNlorello. 
The  bell  towers  in  Horence  catch  the  linfferincr 
rays  of  the  sunset.  The  gi'aceful  spire  of  the 
Badia  and  the  rich  gleams  of  color  on  Giotto's 
tower  irresistibly  attract  the  eye,  while  from 
Santa  Maria  Novella  the  musical  chimes  float 
out  on  the  evening  air. 

Beyond  the  Porta  Romana,  concealed  from 
sight  by  the  curve  of  the  hills,  is  the  Certosa  of 
the  Val  d'Emo,  crowning  a  hill  thickly  covered 
with  cypress  trees.  It  is  in  the  Certosa  that 
Niccolo  Acciajuolo,  Grand  Seneschal  to  Queen 
Joanna  of  Naples,  and  the  founder  of  this  con- 
vent, is  entombed,  beneath  a  recumbent  statue 
clad  in  armor,  above  which  is  a  rich  Gothic 
canopy.  It  was  Acciajuolo  who,  in  1341,  founded 
the  Certosa.  Farther  up  the  hills  the  visitor 
comes  upon  the  wonderful  shrine  of  La  Madonna 
deir  Impruneta. 

73 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Across  the  valley,  at  the  foot  of  the  heights  of 
Bellosguardo,  is  the  Church  of  San  Francesco 
and  San  Paola,  in  which  is  the  tomb  of  the 
revered  Bishop  of  Fiesole,  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant works  of  Luca  della  Robbia.  "  The 
admirably  truthful  figure  of  the  dead  bishop,  clad 
in  his  imperial  robes,  is  placed  on  a  sarcophagus 
in  a  square  recess,  at  the  back  of  which  are  three 
figures,  —  Christ,  the  Madonna,  and  St.  John," 
says  Perkins,  writing  of  the  Tuscan  sculptors.  The 
faces  of  these  figures  are  wonderfully  impressive 
in  strong  individuality  and  solemn  dignity. 

At  times,  while  gazing  upon  the  loveliness  of 
the  wide  and  varied  landscape  from  the  piazza  of 
Michael  Angelo,  a  silvery  fog  will  envelop  the 
entire  valley,  seeming  to  blend  earth  and  sky  in 
an  aerial  cloud,  while  a  golden  gleam  of  sunshine 
will  suddenly  light  it  up  as  with  an  exquisite 
transparency,  and  from  this  delicate,  floating, 
wraith-like  mist  the  summit  of  a  distant  hill 
flashes  out,  or  the  dark  mass  of  a  group  of 
cypress  trees,  or  the  tower  of  some  ancient  chiesi, 
as  if  they  were  hung  in  the  air  and  floating 
through  it  like  the  spectral  forms  of  Paolo  and 
Francesca  in  Dante's  vivid  picturing.    One  might 

dwell  indefinitely  on  the  unearthly  loveliness  of 

74 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO    VALLOMBROSA 

the  environs  of  Florence  with  the  sudden  cloud 
effects,  the  ethereal  mountain  lines,  with  cascine 
and  villa  on  the  heights  and  the  sloping  hillsides. 
Florence  is  a  smokeless  city,  and  the  atmospheric 
phenomena  are  thus  seen  in  peculiar  clearness  and 
heauty.  From  the  Via  Lungo  il  Mugnone  is  a 
beautiful  view  of  the  Tuscan  mountains,  a  height 
crowned  by  a  convent  —  a  massive,  rambhng 
structure  of  white  stone,  gleaming  against  the 
far  blue  sky,  which  marks  the  spot  where  St. 
Francis  met  St.  Benedict.  There  is  not  a  street 
corner,  nor  a  hillside,  nor  a  turn  in  the  way  in 
Italy  that  is  not  invested  with  legend  and 
association  running  into  the  historic  past,  in 
a  way,  too,  that  lives  again  in  the  present. 
Florence  was  founded  and  developed  by  won- 
derful personalities.  For  good  or  for  ill,  they 
stamped  their  impress  on  all  time.  This  church 
was  built  in  1225  by  the  monks  of  St.  Augustine. 
The  piazza  commands  one  of  the  most  splendid 
and  extensive  views  —  from  the  Castentino  moun- 
tains to  the  ranges  of  the  Carrara.  In  the  church 
is  a  Coronation  by  Piero  di  Cosimo  dating  back 
to  the  fifteenth  century. 

On  a  wayside    shrine    on    the    Fiesolan  road 
that  winds  up  to  \"illa  Landor  is  an  inscription 

75 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

that  tells  all  who  pass  that  one  Luigi  Consago 
"  felt  God  in  his  heart  "  as  he  walked  these  hills, 
and  that  the  fields  smiled  on  him  with  new 
meaning.     A  part  of  this  runs  :  — 

"  Su  questi  colli  ore  passeggiando  giovinetto 
sentisti  Iddio  O  Luigi  Gonzaga  piori  grazia  che 
in  tanto  reso  della  terra  sicardi  agli  nomini  il 
cielo." 

The  excursion  to  Vallombrosa  —  on  an  emi- 
nence nearly  three  thousand  feet  above  Florence 
—  is  one  of  the  interesting  things  to  make.  The 
old  monastery  there  was  founded  in  1050,  and 
even  the  present  buildings  date  back  to  the  early 
years  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

In  1881  William  Wetmore  Story  passed  some 
time  at  Vallombrosa  with  a  fi-iend  who  had  taken 
a  deserted  villa,  —  one  built  by  the  Medici,  cen- 
turies ago,  and  used  as  a  shooting  box,  —  fitted 
it  up  as  a  summer  home,  and  the  sculptor  thus 
described  the  panorama  that  lay  before  him :  — 

"  There,  far  away  in  the  misty  distance,  can 
be  seen  the  vague  towers  and  domes  of  Florence  ; 
and  through  the  valley  the  Arno  and  the  Sieve 
wind   like  silver  bands  of  light  through  olive- 

76 


FKOM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOIMBROSA 

covered  slopes  that  lie  silent  in  the  blue,  hazy 
distance,  spotted  by  wandering  cloud-shades  and 
taking  every  hue  of  changeful  light  from  the 
pearly  gleams  of  early  morning  to  the  golden 
transmutations  of  twilight  and  the  deep  intensity 
of  moonlit  midnight." 

Vallombrosa  is  the  very  Arcady  of  the  poet's 
imaginationu  It  has  the  isolation  of  a  dream- 
world, a  realm  in  which  reminiscence  and  vision 
seem  to  meet;  for  memories  of  its  consecrated 
past,  prophecies  of  its  alluring  future,  mingle  in 
the  atmosphere.  It  is  an  ideal  spot  for  a  poet's 
holiday,  with  no  call  of  ordinary  life  and  affairs 
to  rudely  interrupt  his  day-dreams.  It  is  little 
wonder  that  a  nature  so  essentially  ideal  as  that 
of  Story  found  here  his  Elysium;  and  in  the 
Villa  Lago  di  f^allombrosa,  the  summer  home  of 
his  daughter,  Madame  Peruzzi,  he  and  INlrs. 
Story  celebrated  their  golden  wedding  and  passed 
there  portions  of  many  happy  seasons.  It  was 
in  this  villa  that  Mr.  Story  wrote  his  idyllic 
romance,  "  Fiammetta,"  reading  it  aloud  to  his 
wife  and  daughter  (as  he  notes  in  the  preface  to 
the  little  tale)  "on  three  beautiful  mornings 
as  we  sat  under  the  shadows  of  the  whispering 

77 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

pines.  To  you  I  dedicate  it,"  he  added,  "  with 
my  truest  love  and  in  memory  of  those  happy 
summer  days  in  the  Etrurian  shades." 

During  one  of  those  Vallombrosan  summers 
Tomasso  Salvini  was  their  guest,  and  there  were 
long  readings  from  the  dramatic  poets,  and  inti- 
mate conversational  discussions  of  art  and  of  the 
modern  drama,  as  they  sat  under  the  murmuring 
pines,  whose  tops  seem  to  almost  pierce  the  sky. 
This,  too,  was  the  scene  in  which  it  was  written 
that  the  sculptor  should  look  his  last  on  earth,  for 
in  October  of  1895,  Mr.  Story  died  in  the  Villa 
Lago  di  Vallombi'osa,  and  his  body  was  conveyed 
to  Rome  and  laid  beside  that  of  his  beloved  wife, 
in  the  little  English  cemetery  where  rests  all  that 
was  mortal  of  Keats  and  of  Shelley. 

The  old  church  of  Vallombrosa  has  one  object 
of  singular  interest  to  the  visitor,  —  a  silver 
reliquary,  elaborately  carved  and  chiselled,  which 
is  believed  to  contain  the  relics  of  San  Giovanni 
Gualberto.  There  is  also  an  Assumption,  very 
much  defaced  by  time,  attributed  to  Frances- 
chini.  Vallombrosa,  in  all  its  beauty  and  charm 
of  association,  is  the  most  unique  spot  in  all  Tus- 
cany. Artists  and  poets  seek  its  inspirations  for 
creative  suggestion  ;  the  thinker  and  the  seer  are 

78 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

attracted  to  those  shades  which  Milton  loved  and 
immortalized  in  the  lines,  — 

"  Thick  as  autumnal  Iwives  that  strow  the  brooks 
In  Vallomhrosa." 

The  Abbey,  founded  in  1637,  was  once  the  most 
important  one  in  Italy.  It  was  a  shrine  of  the 
perpetual  adoration,  and  there  was  hardly  an  hour 
when  prayer  and  praise  were  not  ascending  from 
the  altar.  This  Abbey  was  also  the  home  of 
learning  and  the  conservator  of  art  and  science. 
When  the  Brownings  first  went  to  Florence 
(in  1847)  they  visited  Vallomhrosa  and  implored 
the  monks  to  allow  them  to  remain  for  two 
months,  but  at  the  end  of  five  days  they  were 
sent  away,  as  Mrs.  Browning  and  her  maid  —  two 
women  —  could  not  be  permitted  to  sojourn  in  a 
monastery.  "  So  provoking!"  wrote  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing. "  Such  scenery,  such  fine  woods  supernatu- 
rally  silent,  witli  the  ground  black  as  ink.  .  .  . 
But  being  ignominiously  expelled,  we  had  to 
come  back  to  Florence  to  find  a  new  apartment 
cooler  than  the  old,  and  wait  for  dear  Mr. 
Kenyon.  Then  we  took  up  our  journey  toward 
Rome  with  a  pause  at  Arezzo,  and  a  longer  one 
at  Perugia,  and  planned  to  take  an  apartment 
over  the  Tarpeian  rock  and  enjoy  Rome  as  we 

79 


THE   FLOREXCE   OF  LANDOR 

have  enjoyed  Florence.  INIore  could  not  be. 
This  Florence  is  unspeakably  beautiful." 

It  is  more  than  a  study  of  myth  and  mediaeval 
legend  to  live  in  Florence,  and  still  one  can  hardly 
fail  to  preserve  the  relations  between  antiquity 
and  modernity  by  becoming  oblivious  to  the 
claims  of  the  latter.  When  all  is  said  that  can 
be  for  Italy  —  and  that  is  a  great  deal ;  for  its 
infinite  depths  of  historic  interest ;  its  great  per- 
sonages who  lived  and  loved  and  suffered  and 
sacrificed  for  its  glory,  and  for  what  they  held  to 
be  the  glory  of  the  divine  truth  ;  for  its  enthrall- 
ing romance ;  its  atmosphere  of  enchantment  — 
when  all  is  said  that  can  be  for  all  its  loveliness, 
it  still  remains  true  that  one  day  in  our  own 
country  is  more  significant  than  is  a  year  under 
these  fair  skies.  For  Italy  is  the  land  where  it  is 
always  afternoon.  It  is  the  land  where  time  is 
not  of  the  faintest  consequence.  The  Italians, 
as  a  general  rule,  do  nothing,  and  they  so  contrive 
the  general  mechanism  of  life  that  the  stranger 
within  the  gates  can  do  nothing  either.  The 
most  disproportionate  length  of  time  is  required 
for  the  smallest  thing. 

In  1892  a  funicular  railway  up  the  heights  of 
Vallombrosa  was   constructed,  and  this  should 

80 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO    V^ALLOMBROSA 

bring  the  historic  height  within  an  easy  distance 
of  an  hour  and  a  half,  at  most,  from  Florence, 
were  transportation  conducted  as  it  is  in  America. 
The  route  now  is  by  steam  train  from  Florence 
to  AlTCzzo,  leaving  it  at  Pontassieve,  where  the 
funicular  railway  road  ascends  the  mountain. 
The  journey  by  the  steam  train,  which  requires 
fifty-five  minutes,  could  be  easily  made  in  Amer- 
ica within  fifteen  minutes,  as  it  is  hardly  more 
than  twelve  miles.  The  cogwheel  trip  of  the 
height  requires  almost  as  much  time  as  it  takes 
in  Colorado  to  ascend  Pike's  Peak,  which  is  a  far 
greater  distance.  In  our  own  country  the  excur- 
sion from  Florence  to  Vallombrosa  would  be 
made  so  attractive  and  so  easy  that  it  would  be 
a  distinctive  source  of  revenue  to  the  railroad 
management,  and  incidentally  to  every  one  along 
the  way,  fi'om  the  refreshment  stands  to  the  penny 
newspapers,  while,  on  the  side  of  the  tourists,  the 
excursion  would  be  so  delightful  that  they  would 
throng  the  trains.  It  is  true  that  the  trip  up 
Vallombrosa  is  no  longer  the  penitential  pilgrim- 
age that  it  was  in  the  days  of  I^andor ;  but  still 
the  appallingly  early  matutinal  hour  at  which 
one  must  fare  forth,  and  the  late  hour  of  return, 
make  the  day  inevitably  more  fatiguing  than  is 

6  81 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

at  all  necessary  for  the  little  distance.  To  arrive 
at  the  point  of  exhaustion  in  a  good  cause  may- 
be counted  all  joy ;  but  to  be  fatigued  for  no 
reason  at  all  save  that  of  the  lack  of  adequate 
facilities  is  another  matter.  If  only  some  enter- 
prising^'American  would  discover  Italy,  as  a  cer- 
tain enterprising  Italian  discovered  America,  and 
proceed  to  develop  it  into  ways  and  means  of 
modern  life,  what  a  delightful  event  it  would  be. 
"  But  you  are  so  luxurious,  you  Americans," 
exclaims  a  long-expatriated  American  artist ; 
"we  don't  believe  in  so  much  self-indulgence." 
"  But  it  is  not  self-indulgence  at  all,"  one  pro- 
tests ;  "  it  is  simply  means  to  an  end,  and  that 
end  is  achievement.  Why,  we  are  doing  things 
in  America  !  We  take  thousands  and  thousands 
of  acres  of  arid  land  and  we  re-create  it  into  blos- 
soming beauty  and  fertile  production.  We  cross 
the  continent  of  three  thousand  miles  in  four 
days,  living,  meantime,  in  a  flying  palace,  but  we 
do  it  for  a  purpose,  and  that  purpose  is  not  mere 
self-indulgence.  We  overcome  time  and  space, 
—  those  two  barriers,  —  and  America  is  by  no 
means  merely  the  producer  of  wealth  ;  this  wealth 
is  expressing  itself  in  universal  education,  in  great 
universities,   in  great  opportunities,   great   art.'* 

82 


/ 


FROM    FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

Florence  —  supposed  to  be  a  musical  centre  — 
cannot  now  compete  with  the  great  music  of 
Boston,  New  York,  Chicago,  or  even  with  musical 
opportunities  in  smaller  Western  cities.  It  can- 
not compete  in  ihodern  painting  or  sculpture 
with  America.  Our  wonderful  architectural  de- 
velopment, our  marvellous  feats  of  engineering, 
the  greatness  of  life  in  general,  as  exemplified 
in  America,  finds  no  parallel  in  Italy.  And  this 
greatness  of  achievement  requires  conditions  of 
comfort  and  convenience  in  order  that  one  may 
be  physically  equal  to  the  great  achievements. 
If  the  physical  plane  of  life,  the  basis  of  all  devel- 
opment, can  be  easily  conquered  by  inventions 
and  appliances,  the  energy  that  would  otherwise 
need  to  be  expended  thereon  is  released  and  is  free 
to  apply  itself  to  higher  problems. 

George  Eliot  has  recorded  her  opinion  that  the 
view  from  Fiesole  is  the  most  beautiful  of  any  in 
the  vicinity  of  Florence,  but  that  from  San  Mini- 
ato,  she  adds  "  has  an  interest  of  another  kind  be- 
cause here  Florence  lies  much  nearer  below  and 
one  can  distinguish  the  various  buildings  more 
completely.  .  .  .  There  is  Brunelleschi's  mighty 
dome,  and  close  by,  with  its  lovely  colors  not 
entirely  absorbed  by  distance,  Giotto's  incom- 
es 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

parable  Campanile,  beautiful  as  a  jewel."  Mr. 
Longfellow's  exquisite  sonnet  to  this  wonderful 
"  lily  of  Florence  "  recurs  to  memory :  — 

"  How  many  lives,  made  beautiful  and  sweet 
By  self-devotion  and  by  self-restraint, 
WTiose  pleasure  is  to  run  without  complaint 
On  unknown  errands  of  the  Paraclete, 

Wanting  the  reverence  of  unshodden  feet. 

Fail  of  the  nimbus  which  the  artists  paint 
Around  the  shining  forehead  of  the  saint. 
And  are  in  their  completeness  incomplete  ! 

In  the  old  Tuscan  town  stands  Giotto's  tower. 
The  lily  of  Florence  blossoming  in  stone,  — 
A  vision,  a  delight,  and  a  desire,  — 

The  builder's  perfect  and  centennial  flower. 
That  in  the  night  of  ages  bloomed  alone, 
But  wanting  still  the  glory  of  the  spire." 

George  Eliot  and  JMr.  Lewes  were  the  guests 
of  Thomas  Adolphus  Trollope  in  the  winter  of 
1869-70,  at  his  villa  outside  Porta  San  Niccolo 
at  Ricorboli,  where  he  had  a  small  podere.  The 
great  noveUst  had  previously  visited  Florence  in 
the  spring  of  1860  and  again  a  year  later,  her  first 
visit  being  devoted  to  her  studies  for  "  Romola," 
which  she  wrote  in  London  during  the  ensuing 
year.  The  spacious  salon  in  Villa  Trollope,  on  the 
Piazza  Indipendza,  where  George  Eliot  copied 
her  notes  for  "Romola,"  was  later  occupied  by 

84 


FROM    FIESOLE   TO    VALLOMBROSA 

iMr.  Thomas  Hardy,  during  a  visit  to  Florence. 
In  the  perspective  of  time  since  *' Romohi  "  was 
pubhslied  it  is  interesting  to  read  the  author's 
own  conception  of  that  work,  given  in  a  private 
letter  to  Mr.  R.  H.  Hutton,  bearing  date  of 
August,  18G3.  "  It  is  the  habit  of  my  imagina- 
tion," she  writes,  "  to  strive  after  as  full  a  vision 
of  the  medium  in  which  a  character  moves  as  of 
the  character  itself  .  .  .  My  predominant  feeling 
is  —  not  that  I  have  achieved  anything,  but  — 
that  great,  great  facts  have  struggled  to  find  a 
voice  through  me,  and  have  been  only  able  to 
speak  brokenly.  That  consciousness  makes  me 
cherish  the  more  any  proof  that  my  work  has 
been  seen  to  have  some  true  significance  by  minds 
prepared  not  simply  by  instruction,  but  by  that 
religious  and  moral  sympathy  with  the  historical 
life  of  man,  which  is  the  larger  half  of  culture." 
George  Eliot  passed  the  entire  month  of  May 
in  18G1  in  Florence.  "  Our  morning  hours  were 
spent  in  looking  at  streets,  buildings  and  pictures," 
she  records  in  her  journal,  "  in  hunting  up  old 
books  at  shops  or  stalls,  or  in  reading  at  the 
Magliabicchiana  Library."  The  Laurentian  I^i- 
brary  {Librei'ia  Laurenziana),  that  wonderful 
temple  of  learning  designed  by  Michael  Angelo, 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

held  a  great  charm  for  George  Eliot,  who  found 
it  "  resembling  a  chapel  with  open  pews  of  dark 
wood.  The  precious  books  are  all  chained  to  the 
desk,"  she  notes,  "  and  here  we  saw  old  manu- 
scripts of  exquisite  neatness,  culminating  in  the 
Virgil  of  the  fourth  century,  and  the  Pandects, 
said  to  have  been  recovered  from  obhvion  at 
Amalfi." 

From  the  cloistered  terrace  of  the  old  church 
of  San  Lorenzo  a  door  leads  into  the  Laurentian 
T^ibrary  whose  real  founder  was  Cosimo  il  Vecchio, 
the  most  munificent  of  Florentine  patrons  of  art 
and  letters.  Vacchi,  the  historian,  characterizes 
Cosimo  as  one  "  with  displayed  and  manifest  vir- 
tues, and  secret  and  hidden  faults,  who  made  him- 
self head  and  little  less  than  prince  of  a  Republic 
which  though  free,  yet  served ; "  and  the  great 
benefits  he  conferred  by  his  dominant  power  of 
temperament  led  to  the  demand  for  his  recall 
after  his  enemies  had  banished  him.  As  will  be 
remembered,  Lorenzo  il  Magnifico  was  the  grand- 
son of  Cosimo  il  Vecchio  and  possessed  in  a  strik- 
ing degree  his  characteristics.  Cosimo's  son, 
Piero,  married  Mona  Lucrezia  Tornabuoni,  a 
woman  of  great  learning  and  a  poet  of  her  day. 
Of  this  marriage  there  were  three  daughters,  and 

86 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBllOSA 

two  sons,  Lorenzo,  afterward  known  as  il  Mag- 
nifico,  and  Giuliano,  —  the  two  brothers  whose 
tombs  in  the  Capello  Medici,  the  arcliitectural 
masterpiece  of  Michael  Angelo,  and  one  of  the 
special  points  of  pilgrimage  in  Florence.  Here 
are  found  those  immortal  figures  of  Michael 
Angelo,  the  symbolic  statues  of  Day  and  Night, 
of  Twilight  and  Dawn,  whose  replicas  are  familiar 
in  every  museum  of  art.  Of  these  statues  Ruskin 
wrote  :  "  Four  ineffable  types,  not  of  Darkness 
nor  of  Day,  not  of  Morning  nor  Evening,  but  of 
the  Departure  and  the  Resurrection  :  the  Twi- 
light and  the  Dawn  of  the  souls  of  men."  The 
figure  of  Death  is  invested  with  a  grandeur  that 
is  indescribable  and  of  the  DaA\Ti,  John  Bell  has 
said  that  "  the  form  is  of  the  most  exquisite  pro- 
portions ;  the  head,  a  grand  and  heroic  cast,  and 
the  drapery,  which ^falls  in  thin  transparent  folds 
from  the  turban,  is  full  of  grace,  while  in  her 
noble  countenance  a  spring  of  thought,  an  awak- 
ening principle,  seems  to  breathe,  as  if  the  rising 
day  awaited  the  opening  of  her  eyes.  Day  is 
much  unfinished,  little  more  than  blocked  out, 
most  magnificent.  Night  in  sleep  and  silence,  is 
finely  imagined,  the  attitude  beautiful,  mournful, 
and  full  of  the  most  tender  expression,  the  droop- 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

ing  head,  the  supporting  hand,  and  the  rich  head- 
dress unrivalled  in  the  art." 

Of   these    statues    Giovanni   Battista  Strozzi 
wTote :  — 

"  La  Notte  che  tu  vedi  in  si  dolci  atti 
Dormire,  fu  da  un  Angelo  scolpita 
In  questo  sasso,  e  perche  dorme,  ha  vita  ; 
Destala  se  nol  credi,  e  parleratti." 

To  which  Michael  Angelo  replied  :  — 

"  Grato  m'  e  11  sonno,  e  piii  1'  esser  di  sasso 
Mentre  che  il  danno  e  la  vergogna  dura ; 
Non  veder,  non  sentir,  m'  e  gran  ventura  : 
Per6  non  mi  destar,  deh  !  parla  basso  !  " 

One  translation    of    these  two   stanzas  thus 
riins :  — 

"  Night  in  so  sweet  an  attitude  beheld 
Asleep,  was  by  an  angel  sculptured 
In  this  stone  ;  and,  sleeping,  is  alive ; 
Waken  her,  doubter,  she  will  speak  to  thee." 

Another    translation    of   the    Strozzi    stanza 
(made  by  J.  A.  Wright)  is  as  follows :  — 

"  Carved  by  an  Angel,  in  this  marble  white 
Sweetly  reposing,  lo,  the  Goddess  Night, 
Calmly  she  sleeps,  and  so  must  living  be  ; 
Awake  her  gently  ;  she  will  speak  to  thee," 
88 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBUOSA 

The  stanza  by  Michael  Angelo  has  been  thus 
transhited  :  — 

"  Welcome  is  sleep,  more  welcome  sleep  of  stone 
Whilst  crime  and  shame  continue  in  the  land  ; 
My  happy  fortune,  not  to  see  or  hear  ; 
Waken  me  not  —  in  mercy,  whisper  low." 

Mr.  Wright  has  also  translated  this  stanza  in 
the  following  lines  :  — 

"  Grateful  is  sleep,  whilst  wrong  and  shame  survive ; 
More  grateful  still  in  senseless  stone  to  live  ; 
Gladly  both  sight  and  hearing  I  forego. 
Oh  !  then  awake  me  not !  Hush  !  whisper  low  !  " 

Hawthorne  was  deeply  impressed  by  the 
statue  of  Lorenzo  il  Magnifico,  which  in  its  en- 
tablature looks  down  forever,  in  the  immortal  re- 
pose of  marble,  on  the  figures  of  the  Twilight  and 
Dawn.  Of  the  statue  of  Lorenzo,  Ha'v\i:horne  * 
says :  "  It  is  the  one  work  worthy  of  iNIichael 
Angelo's  reputation  and  grand  enough  to  vindi- 
cate for  him  all  the  genius  that  the  world  gave 
him  credit  for.  And  yet  it  seems  a  simple  thing 
enough  to  think  of  or  to  execute ;  merely  a  sit- 
ting figure,  the  face  partly  over-shadowed  by  a 
helmet,  one  hand  supporting  the  chin.  .  .  .  No 

*  French  and  Italian  *'  Note  Books." 
89 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

such  grandeur  and  majesty  has  elsewhere  been 
put  into  human  shape.  It  is  all  a  miracle,  the 
deep  repose  and  the  deep  life  within  it." 

George  Eliot  did  not  meet  the  Brownings 
during  either  of  her  two  visits  (in  1861-1862), 
but  Mrs.  Browning  wrote  in  a  letter  to  Miss 
Sarianna  Browning,  under  date  of  June,  1860: 
"  Mr.  Lewes  and  Miss  Evans  have  been  here 
and  are  coming  back.  I  admire  her  books  so 
much  that  certainly  I  shall  not  refuse  to  receive 
her."  As  a  matter  of  fact  George  Eliot  only 
met  Mr.  Browning  for  the  first  time  some  two 
years  after  the  death  of  his  wife.  During  all 
her  sojourns  in  Florence,  George  Eliot  seems  to 
have  lived  largely  the  life  of  a  student.  She 
examined  with  great  interest  the  collection  of 
ivory  work  by  Benvenuto  Cellini  in  the  Palazzo 
Vecchio,  and  the  beauty  of  Orcagna's  Loggia 
de'  Lanzi  grew  upon  her.  The  historic  atmos- 
phere of  this  Loggia  still  fascinates  the  stu- 
dent of  Florentine  history,  for  here  were  the 
decrees  of  the  government  proclaimed  to  the  peo- 
ple who  thronged  the  Piazza  della  Signoria  when 
the  ringing  of  the  bells  in  Palazzo  Vecchio  called 
them  to  assemble.  Cellini's  Perseus  impressed 
George  Eliot  as  fantastic,  but  the  Ajax  —  an  an- 

90 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

tique  Greek  sculpture,  one  of  the  most  perfect  ex- 
amples of  Greek  art  —  inspired  her  imagination. 
It  is  the  Loggia  de'  Lanzi  itself,  however,  with 
its  vast  and  noble  arches  and  vaulted  ceiling,  that 
especially  arrests  the  visitor  in  Florence.  The 
construction  is  the  most  beautiful  blending  of 
the  Greek  with  the  Gothic.  The  bronze  group 
of  Judith  and  Holofernes,  the  work  of  Donatello, 
was  created  for  Cosimo  Vecchio,  and  until  1094, 
it  was  in  the  private  palace  of  the  Medici ;  and 
on  their  expulsion  from  Florence  it  was  placed 
in  the  Loggia. 

The  Piazza  della  Signoria  is  one  of  the  most 
deeply  impressive  and  suggestive  of  any  in  Flor- 
ence. Here,  where  now  the  Fountain  of  Nep- 
tune, surrounded  by  Tritons,  stands,  was  the 
spot  on  which  Savonarola  and  his  two  compan- 
ions were  executed.  At  one  corner,  in  an  old 
palace,  is  a  bas-relief,  representing  Christ,  with 
the  inscription  underneath,  "  Omnis  Sapientia  a 
Domino  Deo  est,''  and  on  the  facade  the  Lily  of 
Florence  can  still  be  discerned.  It  is  hardly 
possible  to  contemplate  the  scene  of  this  tragedy 
of  more  than  four  hundred  years  ago  without 
recalling  to  mind  the  celebrated  Pico  della  Mir- 
andola,  who  lived  to  be  ninety-one  years  of  age, 

91 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

and  who  was  an  enthusiastic  disciple  of  Savon- 
arola. It  was  his  influence  that  led  Lorenzo  di 
jNIedici  to  recall  the  celebrated  monk  when  he 
was  banished  from  Florence,  and  to  appoint  him 
preacher  in  the  Duomo. 

Marsilio  Ficino,  in  his  biography  of  Pico  della 
JMirandola,  says  that  on  a  day  when  the  door  of 
the  mystic  temple,  the  Platonic  Academy  of 
Florence,  lay  open  to  all  who  could  construe 
Latin,  there  was  introduced  into  the  study 
"  where  a  lamp  burned  contirmally  before  the 
bust  of  Plato,  as  other  men  burned  lamps  before 
their  favourite  saints,  a  young  man  fresh  from  a 
journey,  of  feature  and  shape  seemly  and  beau- 
teous^ of  stature  goodly  and  high,  of  flesh  tender 
and  soft,  his  visage  dovely  and  fair,  his  color 
white,  intermingled  with  comely  reds,  his  eyes  gray, 
and  quick  of  look,  his  teeth  white  and  even,  his 
hair  yellow  and  abundant,  and  trimmed  with 
more  than  the  usual  artifice  of  the  time." 

Florence,  as  Renan  has  more  than  once  pointed 
out,  had  a  peculiar  appreciation  for  Plato's  philos- 
ophy, while  other  Itahan  cities  inclined  more  to 
that  of  Aristotle. 

The  early  meetings  of  the  Platonic  Academy 
were  held  in  the  Villa  Medici  at  Careggi,  which 

92 


FROiM    FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

dates  back  to  1417,  when  it  was  purchased  by 
Cosimo  il  Vecchio,  who  died  there  in  1G04  ;  and 
in  this  village  also  occurred  the  death  of  Lorenzo 
il  Magnifico.  To  the  latter-day  visitor  there 
seems  to  be  pictured  in  the  very  air  the  scene 
thus  vividly  described  by  Professor  Pasquale 
Villari:  — 

"  Lorenzo  on  that  day  was  more  conscious 
than  he  had  yet  been  that  his  death  was  near  at 
hand.  He  had  called  his  son  Pietro  to  him,  to 
give  him  his  parting  advice,  and  bid  him  a  last 
farewell.  When  his  friends,  who  were  not  al- 
lowed to  be  present  at  that  interview,  returned 
to  the  chamber,  and  had  made  his  son  retire  — 
as  his  presence  agitated  Lorenzo  too  much  —  he 
expressed  a  wish  to  see  Pico  della  INIirandola 
again,  who  immediately  hastened  to  him.  It 
appeared  as  if  the  sweet  expression  of  that  be- 
nevolent and  gentle  young  man  had  soothed  him 
a  little,  for  he  said  to  him,  '  I  should  have  died 
unhappy  if  I  had  not  first  been  cheered  by  a  sight 
of  thy  face.'  Pico  had  no  sooner  retired  than 
Savonarola  entered  and  approached  respectfully 
the  bed  of  the  dying  Lorenzo,  who  said  that 
there  were  three  sins  he  wished   to  confess   to 

93 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

him,  and  for  which    he  asked   absolution :   the 
sacking  of  Volterra ;  the  money  taken  from  the 
Monte  delle  Fandullc,  which  had  caused  so  many- 
deaths  ;  and  the  blood  shed   after  the  conspiracy 
of  the  Pazzi.     While  saying  this  he  again  be- 
came agitated,  and  Savonarola  tried  to  calm  him, 
by  frequently  repeating,  '  God  is  good,  God  is 
merciful ! '     Lorenzo  had  scarcely  left  off  speak- 
ing, when  Savonarola  added,  'Three  things  are 
required  of  you.'     '  And  what  are  they,  father  ? ' 
replied  Lorenzo.     Savonarola's  countenance  be- 
came grave,  and,  raising  the  fingers  of  his  right 
hand,  he  thus  began :  *  First,  it  is  necessary  that 
you  should  have  a  full  and  lively  faith  in  the 
mercy  of  God.'    *  That  I  have  most  fully.'    *  Sec- 
ondly, it  is  necessary  to  restore  that  which  you 
unjustly  took  away,  or  enjoin  your  sons  to  re- 
store it  for  you.'     This  requirement  appeared  to 
cause  him  surprise  and  grief;  however,  with  an 
effort,  he  gave  his  consent  by  a  nod  of  his  head. 
Savonarola  then  rose  up,  and  while  the  dying 
prince  shrank  with  terror  upon  his  bed,  the  con- 
fessor seemed  to  rise  above  himself  when  saying, 
*  Lastly,  you  must  restore  liberty  to  the  people 
of  Florence.'     His  countenance  was  solemn,  his 
voice  almost  terrible ;  his  eyes,  as  if  to  read  the 

94 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

answer,  remained  fixed  intently  on  tliose  of  Lo- 
renzo, who,  collecting  all  the  strength  that  nature 
had  left  him,  tm-ncd  his  back  on  him  scornfully, 
without  uttering  a  word.  And  thus  Savonarola 
left  him  without  giving  him  absolution ;  and  the 
Magnificent,  lacerated  by  remorse,  soon  after 
breathed  his  last." 

There  is  a  legend  in  Florence  that  on  the  night 
of  Lorenzo's  death  a  train  of  lights  flitted  in  the 
air  between  the  Villa  Medici  and  the  Duomo, 
illuminating  the  city. 

Lingering  day  after  day  in  San  Marco  and  in 
other  haunts  of  Savonarola,  George  Eliot  seemed 
to  assimilate  fairly  the  spirit  of  his  teachings 
and  re-create  them  in  her  marvellous  depiction 
of  the  character  and  life  of  Savonarola  in  her 
Florentine  romance,  "Romola."  From  the  Frate, 
Romola  learns  the  lessons  of  the  higher  wisdom. 
Savonarola  is  represented  as  saying  to  her  :  — 

"  You  are  seeking  your  own  will,  my  daughter. 
You  are  seeking  some  good  other  than  the  law 
you  are  bound  to  obey.  But  how  will  you  find 
good  ?  It  is  not  a  thing  of  choice  :  it  is  a  river 
that  flows  from  the  foot  of  the  Invisible  Throne, 

95 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

and  flows  by  the  path  of  obedience.  I  say  again, 
man  cannot  choose  his  duties.  Yea  may  choose 
to  forsake  your  duties,  and  choose  not  to  have 
the  sorrow  they  bring.  But  you  will  go  forth ; 
and  what  will  you  find,  my  daughter  ?  Sorrow 
without  duty  —  bitter  herbs,  and  no  bread  with 
them." 

And  again :  — 

"  You  would  feel  that  Florence  was  the  home 
of  your  soul  as  well  as  your  birthplace,  because 
you  would  see  the  work  that  was  given  you  to 
do  there.  If  you  forsake  your  place,  who  will 
fill  it?  You  ought  to  be  in  your  place  now, 
helping  in  the  great  work  by  which  God  will 
purify  Florence,  and  raise  it  to  be  the  guide  of 
the  nations." 

No  biography  of  Savonarola  or  history  of  his 
period  could  offer  so  vital  an  interpretation  of 
him  in  all  his  passion  of  piety  and  patriotism,  as 
does  George  Eliot  in  these  counsels  that  he  is 
portrayed  as  offering  to  Romola. 

"  The  higher  life  begins  for  us,  my  daughter, 
when  we  renounce  our  own  will  to  bow  before  a 

96 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

Divine  law.  That  seems  hard  to  you.  It  is  the 
portal  of  wisdom,  and  freedom,  and  blessedness. 
And  the  symbol  of  it  hangs  before  you.  That 
wisdom  is  the  religion  of  the  Cross.  And  you 
stand  aloof  from  it :  you  are  a  pagan  ;  you  have 
been  taught  to  say,  '  I  am  as  the  wise  men  who 
lived  before  the  time  when  the  Jew  of  Nazareth 
was  crucified.'  And  that  is  your  wisdom  !  To 
be  as  the  dead  whose  eyes  are  closed,  and  whose 
ear  is  deaf  to  the  work  of  God  that  has  been 
since  their  time.  What  has  your  dead  wisdom 
done  for  you,  my  daughter  ?  It  has  left  you 
without  a  heart  for  the  neighbors  among  whom 
you  dwell,  without  care  for  the  great  work  by 
which  Florence  is  to  be  regenerated  and  the 
world  made  holy  ;  it  has  left  you  without  a  share 
in  the  Divine  life  which  quenches  the  sense  of 
suffering  Self  in  the  ardors  of  an  ever-growing 
love.  And  now,  when  the  sword  has  pierced 
your  soul,  you  say,  '  I  will  go  away ;  I  cannot 
bear  my  sorrow.'  And  you  think  nothing  of  the 
sorrow  and  the  wrong  that  are  within  the  walls 
of  the  city  where  you  dwell ;  you  would  leave 
your  place  empty,  when  it  ought  to  be  filled  with 
your  pity  and  your  labor.  If  there  is  wicked- 
ness in  the  streets,  your  steps  should  shine  with 
7  97 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

the  light  of  purity ;  if  there  is  a  cry  of  anguish, 
you,  my  daughter,  because  you  know  the  mean- 
ing of  the  cry,  should  be  there  to  still  it.  My 
beloved  daughter,  sorrow  has  come  to  teach 
you  a  new  worship ;  the  sign  of  it  hangs  before 
you." 

And  how  his  devotion  to  Florence  is  revealed  in 
these  words  to  her :  — 

"  My  daughter,  you  are  a  child  of  Florence ; 
fulfil  the  duties  of  that  great  inheritance.  Live 
for  Florence  —  for  your  own  people,  whom  God 
is  preparing  to  bless  the  earth.  Bear  the  anguish 
and  the  smart.  The  iron  is  sharp  —  I  know,  1 
know  —  it  rends  the  tender  flesh.  The  draught 
is  bitterness  on  the  lips.  But  there  is  rapture  in 
the  cup  —  there  is  the  vision  which  makes  all 
life  below  it  dross  forever.'* 

Among  Landor's  *'  Imaginary  Conversations  " 
is  one  between  Savonarola  and  the  Prior  of 
Florence  ;  but  the  matchless  vitality  and  power 
of  George  Eliot's  interpretation  of  the  person- 
ality of  Savonarola,  as  given  in  "  Romola,"  stands 
unrivalled  and  unapproached. 

The  period  of  Landor's  residence  in  Florence 
included  a  wide  range  of  rich  and  choice  hter- 

98 


FROM   FIESOLE   TO   VALLOMBROSA 

ary  production.  Aside  from  the  immortal  poem, 
•'  Aurora  Leigh  "  and  other  great  works  of  IMrs. 
Browning  ;  the  "  Christmas  Eve  "  and  "  Easter 
Day  "  of  Robert  Browning,  written  in  1850  ;  the 
many  lyi'ics  of  both  the  married  poets  ;  George 
Ehot's  great  Florentine  romance,  "  Romola  ;  " 
the  somewhat  voluminous  works  of  Thomas 
Adolphus  Trollope ;  the  Italian  Note  Books  of 
Hawthorne ;  poems,  essays,  and  history  by 
many  other  authors ;  Landor's  own  greatest 
work,  the  "  Imaginary  Conversations,"  —  in  all 
these  is  preserved,  as  in  amber,  the  literary 
spirit  of  the  day,  with  phases  of  its  life  and  inter- 
pretation of  many  of  its  great  personalities.  Not 
that  all  these  creations  were  actually  WTitten 
in  Florence  :  "  Romola,"  was  written  in  London  ; 
•'Aurora  Leigh,"  begun  in  Florence,  was  con- 
tinued in  Paris  and  completed  in  I^ondon ;  but, 
largely,  they  all  owed  their  inspiration  to  Tuscan 
air.  And  the  glories  of  art  in  the  galleries  and 
the  churches  with  legend  and  myth  and  poetic 
association,  have  been  distilled  by  the  alembic 
of  literature  from  San  JNIiniato  to  Fiesole,  from 
Bellosguardo  to  Vallombrosa. 


99 


Only  so  muck  do  I  kiioiv  as  /  have  lived.  .  .  .  As  the  world  was 
plastic  and  Jluid  tJi  the  hands  of  God,  so  is  it  ever  to  so  much  of 
His  attribtdes  as  we  bring  to  it.  To  ignorance  and  siti  it  is 
flint :  but  in  proportion  as  a  man  has  anything  in  him  divine,  the 
firmament  foivs  before  him  and  takes  his  signet  and  form.  .  ,  . 
The  day  is  always  his  who  trorks  in  it  with  serenity  and  great  aims. 

Emerson. 

Hoiv  shall  we  know  when  he  comes  for  whom  are  these  garlands 

of  bay? 
How  single  him  forth  from  the  many  that  pass  and  repass  on  their 

way? 

Easily  may  ye  discern  him,  and  beckon  him  forth  from  tlie 
throng  ; 

Ye  surely  shall  know  him  by  this,  —  he  hath  slept  on  the  moun- 
tains of  song. 

Know  by  the   dew  on   hu  raiment,  his  forehead,  and  clustering 

hair  ; 
Den  of  the  night  on  Parnassus  he  for  a  token  shall  ivear. 

Edith  Thomas. 


I 


Ill 

THE  DEW  OF  PARNASSUS 

"  Lilied  whiteness  shone  upon 
Not  by  light  of  moon  or  sun." 

Full  of  charm  and  brilliancy  was  the  life  of 
that  inner  circle  in  Florence  with  whom  I*ar- 
nassus  was  familiar  ground,  whose  social  inter- 
ludes were  enjoyed  in  that  scenic  Florentine 
background  of  incomparable  beauty.  There 
was  some  new  excursion  for  every  hour  in  the 
day.  A  happy  party  would  fare  forth  for  the 
old  Boboli  gardens  and  climb  the  httle  hill  for 
the  view  over  Florence  and  the  Val  d'Arno. 
There  were  moonlight  gatherings  on  the  terrace 
of  some  old  palazzo,  where  Italian  politics  and 
poetry  were  discussed  over  tea  and  strawberries, 
or  chance  encounters  in  galleries  or  churches, 
where  the  conversational  interludes  of  sympa- 
thetic companionship  were  resumed. 

Even  in  the  Florence  of  to-day,  as  in  that  of 
Landor,  the  social  life  is  one  of  such  charm  as  to 
make  Florence,  from  the  point  of  the  intimate 

103 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

view,  something  very  different  from  the  city  of 
the  mere  tourist.  To  the  latter,  indeed,  it  is 
lovely  enough  to  repay  a  journey  thither  —  a 
thousand  journeys  ;  but  if  to  the  infinite  in- 
terest of  its  art  and  scenic  effects  one  may  be  so 
fortunate  as  to  add  the  still  deeper  interest  of  its 
social  life,  it  becomes,  indeed,  the  most  fasci- 
nating of  places.  For  in  no  city  in  the  world 
is  there  more  exquisitely  cultured  society  than  in 
Florence.  It  is  a  society  of  scholars,  a  society 
of  the  utmost  accomplishment,  a  society  includ- 
ing poets,  artists,  and  thinkers.  Its  members  are 
linguists,  equally  at  home  in  three  or  four  of 
the  modern  languages  ;  they  are  people  who 
have  seen  and  know  the  best  there  is  in  the 
world  —  of  society,  art,  and  letters. 

The  receptions  given  in  Florence  in  these  grand 
old  palaces  and  historic  villas  might  almost  be 
stage  scenes,  set  in  perfection  of  beauty.  The 
vast  salons  hung  with  tapestries,  rich  in  sculp- 
ture ;  the  paintings  in  the  heavily  carved  Floren- 
tine frames ;  the  great  mirrors  whose  expanse  in 
the  past  has  reflected  images  and  scenes  long 
since  vanished  ;  with  always  a  wealth  of  flowers  ; 
with  rare  books  and  bric-a-brac,  —  all  the  name- 
less objects  and  details  that  contribute  to  the  ar- 

104, 


THE   DEW   OF   PARNASSUS 

tistic  atmosphere  of  rooms,  —  in  these  vast  salons 
the  groups  of  people  gather  and  seem  almost  like 
some  pictures  suddenly  summoned  by  means  of 
magic  or  necromancy  out  of  the  historic  past. 
There  is  a  resplendence  of  the  golden  atmosphere 
as  of  phantasmagoria,  rather  than  the  actual  reality 
of  to-day. 

Among  the  earliest  friends  of  the  Brownings 
was  Mr.  Hiram  Powers,  the  American  sculptor, 
of  whom  Robert  Browning  speaks  as  *'  a  most 
charming,  straightforward,  genial  American,  who 
sometimes  comes  and  takes  coffee  with  us,  as 
simple  as  the  man  of  genius  he  has  proved  himself 
to  be."  At  this  time  Mr.  Powers  was  domiciled 
in  the  Via  dei  Serragli,  on  the  "  other  side  "  of  the 
river,  and  was  therefore  quite  near  Casa  Guidi. 
The  Hawthornes  were  in  the  same  street,  almost 
opposite  JNlr.  Powers,  in  the  Casa  del  Bello,  which 
Mr.  Julian  Hawthorne,  in  his  biography  of  his 
father,  describes  as  "  a  fresh  and  bright  edifice 
...  a  house  all  light  and  grace,"  with  a  terrace 
extending  on  one  side.  A  little  farther  up  the 
street  toward  Porta  Romana  were  the  Torriciani 
Gardens.  At  this  time  visitors  to  the  studio  of 
Mr.  Powers  were  interested  in  his  bust  of  Pros- 
erpine and  in  the  statue  of  the  fisher-boy  hold- 

105 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

ing  a  shell  to  his  ear,  —  a  work  which  captivated 
the  fancy  of  Mrs.  Browning.  The  Casa  Bello 
allured  the  Hawthornes  with  its  spacious  suite  of 
rooms  extending  around  the  four  sides  of  a  small 
court,  with  lofty,  frescoed  ceilings  and  sumptuous 
hangings,  and  the  usual  Italian  profusion  of  marble 
tables,  mirrors,  and  upholstered  furniture.  The 
terrace  was  a  constant  delight  to  Hawthorne 
where  he  sat  daily,  —  in  what  ethereal  dreams  who 
may  tell  ? 

"  Ah  !  who  shall  lift  that  wand  of  magic  power 

And  the  lost  clew  regain  ? 
The  unfinished  window  in  Aladdin's  tower 

Unfinished  must  remain!  " 

The  Brownings,  Isa  Blagden,  and  Mr.  Powers 
and  his  family  seem  to  have  made  the  nearer 
circle  for  Hawthorne  at  this  time.  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing somewhere  chronicles  that  Mr.  Story  repre- 
sented Hawthorne  as  "  not  silent  only  by  shyness, 
but  by  nature  and  inaptitude,  ...  a  man  "  who 
talks  exclusively  with  his  pen."  But  the  records 
of  these  days,  written  in  invisible  ink,  disclose,  when 
chemically  treated,  that  William  Cullen  Bryant 
and  his  daughter  visited  Florence  about  this 
time,  and  that  Hawthorne,  after  calling  on  them 
at  their  hotel,  passed  an  evening  with  them  and 

106 


THE   DEW   OF   PARNASSUS 

others  at  the  Brownings',  in  Casa  Guidi ;  and  that 
indeed,  between  Casa  Guidi  and  Casa  Bello  the 
pathway  was  kept  open.  At  one  of  Isa  Bhigden's 
weekly  receptions  Hawthorne  met  Browning, 
Trollope,  and  Frank  Boott,  and  notes  the  *'  effer- 
vescent aroma  "  of  JNIr.  Browning's  genial  conver- 
sation. ^Ir.  Trollope  he  characterized  as  "  sensible 
and  cultivated."  Isa  Blagden  was  sometimes  his 
companion  in  rambling  about  Florence,  for  Haw- 
thorne found  the  beautiful  town  to  be  a  paradise 
for  the  saunterer,  and  he  loitered  on  the  Ponte 
Carraja,  and  at  the  opening  between  the  houses 
on  Ponte  Vecchio  that  so  frames  a  picture  of  river 
and  palaces  ;  and  there  were  few  churches  that  he 
did  not  look  into,  though  of  all  those  the  Duomo 
most  appealed  to  him,  because  of  the  intense  glory 
and  beauty  of  the  painted  windows.  "It  is  a 
pity  anybody  should  die  without  seeing  an  antique 
painted  window  with  the  bright  Itahan  sun  shin- 
ing through  it,"  he  said.  One  late  afternoon, 
especially,  when  the  gi'cat  writer  had  wandered 
into  the  Duomo,  where,  in  the  glass-encased 
space  around  the  high  altar,  the  priests  and 
white-robed  acolytes  were  chanting  the  after- 
noon service,  he  was  fairly  dazzled  by  the 
brightness  of  their  wonderful  windows,  **  like  a 

107 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

million  rubies,  sapphires,  topazes,  and  emeralds" 
massed  together. 

Browning  seems  to  have  called  frequently  on 
the  Hawthornes  in  Casa  Bello,  always  leaving  a 
new  impression  of  genial  gi-ace  and  unaffected 
cordiality. 

There  was  one  afternoon  that  seemed  to  sit  for 
its  picture  when  JVlr.  Hawthorne  and  Isa  Blagden 
drove  together  to  call  on  JNIr.  Kirkup,  whose  weird 
and  curious  personality  constantly  appears  in  all 
this  grouping  of  Florentine  visitors.  "  Such  a 
tragic  face  the  old  man  has,  with  his  bleak,  white 
beard,"  said  Mrs.  Browning  of  him.  Mr.  Kirkup 
was  quite  celebrated  in  his  day  as  an  antiquarian, 
to  which  he  added  the  less  enviable  fame  of  being 
considered  a  necromancer.  At  all  events,  he  was 
greatly  interested  in  the  "  spirit  rappings "  of 
those  days,  the  well-known  medium,  Hume,  being 
then  in  Florence  and  holding  seances,  which 
attracted  JNIrs.  Browning,  the  Trollopes,  Haw- 
thorne, and  others.  Mr.  Kirkup,  indeed,  enjoyed 
the  luxury  of  keeping  a  private  medium  of  his 
own  in  his  house,  —  an  Italian  peasant  woman,  — 
through  whose  ministrations  he  believed  he  held 
converse  with  Dante  and  with  various  dead  kings 
and  emperors.     In  an  old  palace  overhanging  the 

108 


THE    DEW   OF   PARNASSUS 

Arno,  Mr.  Kirkup  had  domiciled  himself  close  to 
the  I'onte  Vecchio,  from  whose  outer  portal  a 
dark  staircase  led  up  to  his  rooms.  Hawthorne, 
writing  of  his  own  and  Isa  Blagden's  call  on  the 
antiquarian  one  summer  afternoon,^  says  :  — 

'*  Knocking  at  the  door  we  were  received  by 
him.  He  had  had  notice  of  our  visit  and  was 
prepared  for  it,  being  dressed  in  a  blue  frock 
coat  of  rather  an  old  fashion,  with  a  velvet  collar, 
and  in  a  thin  waist-coat  and  pantaloons  fresh  from 
the  drawer,  looking  very  sprucely,  in  short.  .  .  . 
He  is  rather  low  of  stature,  with  a  pale,  shrivelled 
face,  and  hair  and  beard  perfectly  white,  with  the 
hair  of  a  particularly  soft  and  silken  texture  ;  his 
eyes  have  a  queer,  rather  wild  look,  and  the  eye- 
brows are  arched  above  them,  so  that  he  seems  all 
the  time  to  be  seeing  something  that  strikes  him 
with  surprise.  .  .  .  His  whole  make-up  is  delicate, 
his  hands  white  and  small,  and  his  appearance 
and  manners  those  of  a  gentleman.  He  appeared 
to  be  very  nervous,  tremulous,  indeed,  to  his 
fingers'  ends,  without  being  in  any  way  disturbed 
or  embarrassed  by  our  presence. 

"  He  ushered  us  through  two  or  three  large 
rooms,  dark,  dusty,  hung  with  antique  looking 

^  French  and  Italian  Note  Books. 
109 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

pictures  and  lined  with  book-cases  containing,  I 
doubt  not,  a  very  curious  library.  Indeed  he 
directed  my  attention  to  one  case,  and  said  that 
he  had  collected  these  works  in  former  days 
merely  for  the  sake  of  laughing  at  them.  They 
were  books  of  magic  and  occult  sciences.  What 
he  seemed  really  to  value,  however,  were  some 
manuscript  copies  of  Dante,  of  which  he  showed 
us  two:  one  a  folio  or  parchment  beautifully 
wi'itten  in  German  text,  the  letters  as  clear  and 
accurately  cut  as  printed  type  ;  the  other  a  small 
volume,  fit,  as  Mr.  Kirkup  said,  to  be  carried  in 
a  capacious  mediaeval  sleeve.  This  also  was  on 
vellum  and  as  elegantly  executed  as  the  larger 
one  ;  but  the  larger  had  beautiful  illuminations, 
the  vermilion  and  gold  of  which  looked  as 
brilliant  now  as  they  did  five  centuries  ago. 

"  Both  of  these  books  were  written  early  in  the 
fourteenth  century.  Mr.  Kirkup  has  also  a 
plaster  cast  of  Dante's  face,  which  he  believes  to 
be  the  original  and  taken  from  his  face  after 
death  ;  and  he  has  likewise  his  own  accurate 
tracing  from  Giotto's  fresco  of  Dante  in  the 
Chapel  of  the  Borgello.  This  fresco  was  dis- 
covered through  Mr.  Kirkup  s  means,  and  the 
tracing  is  particularly  valuable.  ...  It  represents 

no 


D.Wl'i:      \l  K.llll    HI. 
Frum  the  Porliail  tUscorered  in  tlif  Frescoes  by  Giolto,  in  the  linrijeUo,  Florence. 


I 


THE   DEW   OF  PARNASSUS 

the  profile  of  a  youthful  but  melancholy  face, 
and  luis  the  general  outline  of  Dante's  features 
in  other  portraits. 

"  Dante  has  held  frequent  communications  with 
Mr.  Kirkup  through  a  medium,  the  poet  being 
described  by  a  medium  as  wearing  the  same 
dress  seen  in  the  youthful  portrait,  but  as  bear- 
ing more  resemblance  to  the  cast  taken  from  the 
dead  face  than  to  the  picture  from  his  youthful 
one. 

"  There  was  a  very  good  picture  of  Savonarola 
in  one  of  the  rooms,  and  many  other  portraits, 
paintings,  and  drawings,  some  of  them  ancient, 
and  some  of  them  the  work  of  Mr.  Kirkup  him- 
self. He  has  the  torn  fragment  of  an  exquisite 
drawing  of  a  nude  figure  by  Rubens,  and  a 
portfolio  of  other  curious  drawings." 

Hawthorne  and  Mr.  Landor  never  met.  To 
accurately  determine  the  matter  the  writer  of 
this  volume  wrote  to  Mr.  Julian  Hawthorne, 
asking  the  question,  to  which  he  courteously 
replied :  — 

"...  My  father  never  met  Landor.  He  did 
not  loom  so  large  then  as  he  does  now  —  and  my 
father  never,  that  I  know  of,  made  a  pilgrimage 

111 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

of  piety  to  any  living  person.  He  was  too  mod- 
est to  think  himself  an  object  of  interest,  and  did 
not  consider  his  own  interest  in  any  person  a 
warrant  to  intrude  upon  them. 

"  Thanking  you  for  your  kindness,  I  am 
"  very  sincerely  yours 

"  Julian  Hawthorne  " 

The  personality  of  Mr.  Kirkup  runs  through  the 
Florentine  days  from  the  time  of  Leigh  Hunt's 
visit  in  1823  to  that  of  the  death  of  Landor  in 
1864,  when  Mr.  Hunt  was  in  Mariano,  on  the 
Fiesolan  hills,  where  he  looked  from  his  window 
on  the  "  Valley  of  the  Ladies "  of  the  *'  Deca- 
meron." Mr.  Kirkup,  Charles  Armitage  Brown, 
and  Landor  formed  his  intimate  group.  A  Httle 
later  came  Hazlitt ;  and  it  was  Mr.  Kirkup  who 
introduced  him  to  Landor,  in  the  spring  of  1825. 
"  I  perfectly  remember  Hazlitt's  visit,"  said  Mr. 
Kirkup  in  later  years.  "  He  wished  to  pay  Lan- 
dor a  visit,  but  was  advised  not,  unless  he  was  well 
introduced.  Armitage  Brown,  who  was  Landor 's 
greatest  friend  here,  offered  him  a  letter ;  but 
Hazlitt  said  he  would  beard  the  lion  in  his  den, 
and  he  walked  up  to  his  house  one  winter's  morn- 
ing in  nankeen  shorts  and  white  stockings ;  was 

112 


THE   DEW   OF   PARNASSUS 

made  much  of  by  the  royal  animal ;  and  often 
returned  —  at  night ;  for  Landor  was  much  out 
in  the  day,  in  all  weathers." 

JMr.  Kirkup  was  the  recognized  authority  on 
Dante,  in  his  circle  in  Florence,  and  when  Lan- 
dor published  his  "  Pentameron,"  Mr.  Kirkup 
took  exception  to  the  title  of  "  Messer  "  as  used 
by  Landor.  The  complete  title  of  the  book  is : 
"  The  Pentameron ;  or  Interviews  of  Messer 
Giovanni  Boccaccio  and  Messer  Francesco  Pe- 
trarca,  when  said  Messer  Giovanni  lay  infii-m  at 
Viletta  hard  by  Certaldo :  after  which  they  saw 
not  each  other  on  om*  Side  of  Paradise :  shewing 
how  they  discoursed  upon  that  famous  Theolo- 
gian jMesser  Dante  Alighieri,  and  sundry  other 
Matters."  Mr.  Kirkup  remarked  that  it  was  as 
much  of  an  error  for  Landor  to  have  alluded  to 
Dante  as  "Messer"  as  it  would  be  if  some  Itahan 
critic  had  called  himself  Sir  Landor.  "  In  all 
the  legal  documents  I  have  of  the  sale  of  Peter 
Dante's  estate  he  is  called  Dominus  Petrus  filius 
Dantii  AUighierii :  Dominus  being  the  Latin  for 
Lord  or  Messire,  the  title  apphed  to  a  judge  in 
the  republic,  while  poor  Dante  is  named  as  a 
common  citizen  in  the  same  legal  deeds  in  which 
his  son  is  always  styled  Messire,  or  Dominus," 

«  113 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

added  Mr.  Kirkup.  IVIr.  Forster,  Landor's  biog- 
rapher, in  speaking  of  "  The  Pentameron,"  gives 
this  pleasant  httle  picture  of  the  way  in  which 
the  work  was  suggested  to  Landor :  — 

*'  I  have  spoken  of  the  memories  of  Boccaccio 
that  were  on  all  sides  of  Landor  at  his  villa,  from 
whose  gate  up  to  the  gates  of  Florence  there  was 
hardly  a  street  or  farm  that  the  great  story-teller 
had  not  associated  with  some  witty  or  affecting 
narrative.  The  place  was  peopled  by  his  genius 
with  creatures  that  neither  seasons  nor  factions  had 
been  able  to  change.  Happy  and  well  founded 
was  the  prediction  of  his  friend,  that  long  before 
the  *  Decameron '  would  cease  to  be  recited  under 
their  arching  vines,  the  worms  would  be  the  only 
fighters  for  Guelph  or  Ghibelline  ;  and  that  even 
under  so  terrible  a  visitation  as  another  plague, 
its  pages  would  remain  a  solace  to  all  who  could 
find  refuge  and  relief  in  letters. 

"  Such  a  refuge  and  rehef  had  they  been  to 
Landor  in  every  plague  by  which  he  had  been 
visited,  and  this  book  was  payment  for  a  portion 
of  the  debt.  Boccaccio  is  its  hero  ;  and  the  idea  of 
it  was  doubtless  taken  from  his  letter  to  Petrarca 
accompanying  the  copy  of  Dante  transcribed 
by  himself  for  his  use,  inviting  him  to  look  more 

114 


THE   DEW   OF   PARNASSUS 

closely  into  it,  and  if  possible  to  admire  it  more. 
In  his  illness  at  Certaldo  he  is  visited  by  his 
friend  ;  during  interviews  that  occupy  five  several 
days,  the  Divine  Comedy  is  the  subject  of  their 
talk  ;  and  very  wonderful  talk  it  is  that  can  make 
any  subject,  however  great,  the  centre  of  so  wide 
a  range  of  scholarship  and  learning  and  of  such 
abounding  wealth  of  illustration,  can  press  into 
the  service  of  argument  such  a  delightful  profu- 
sion of  metaphor  and  imagery,  can  mingle  humor 
and  wit  with  so  much  tenderness  and  wisdom, 
and  clothe  in  language  of  consummate  beauty  so 
much  dignity  and  variety  of  thought.  But  amidst 
it  all  we  never  lose  our  interest  in  the  simple  and 
kindly  old  burgess  of  Certaldo  and  his  belongings  ; 
his  little  maid  Assunta  and  her  lover  ;  even  the 
rascally  old  frate  confessor,  who  suggests  his  last 
witty  story :  and  not  more  delightful  is  the  grave 
Petrarca  when  his  eloquence  is  at  its  best,  than 
in  the  quaint  little  scene  where  Assuntina  has  to 
girth  up  his  palfrey  for  him." 

Mr.  Kirkup  recalled  in  his  later  years  many 
characteristic  anecdotes  and  events  in  Landor's 
early  life,  one  of  which  was  the  termination  of 
Landor's  relations  with  the  Villa  Medici,  where 

115 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

he  first  lived.  "  I  remember  one  day,"  narrates 
Mr.  Kirkup,  "  when  Landor  Hved  in  the  Medici 
palace,  he  'vvi'ote  to  the  marquis,  and  accused 
him  of  having  allured  away  his  coachman.  The 
marquis,  I  should  tell  you,  enjoyed  no  very  good 
name,  and  this  had  exasperated  Landor  the 
more.  Mrs.  Landor  was  sitting  in  the  drawing- 
room  the  day  after,  where  I  and  some  others 
were,  when  the  marquis  came  strutting  in  with- 
out removing  his  hat.  But  he  had  scarcely 
advanced  three  steps  from  the  door  when  Lan- 
dor walked  up  to  him  quickly  and  knocked  his 
hat  off,  then  took  him  by  the  arm  and  turned 
him  out.  You  should  have  heard  Landor's  shout 
of  laughter  at  his  own  anger  when  it  was  all 
over,  inextinguishable  laughter  which  none  of 
us  could  resist.  Immediately  after  he  sent  the 
marquis  warning  by  the  hands  of  a  policeman, 
which  is  reckoned  an  affront,  and  quitted  his 
house  at  the  end  of  the  year." 

Nearly  all  Mr.  Kirkup's  life  had  been  passed 
in  Florence  ;  but  when  he  was  over  eighty  years 
of  age  he  betook  himself  to  Leghorn,  where  he 
died.  Of  his  belief  in  the  manifestations  of 
spiritualistic  phenomena  by  Mr.  Home  and  by 
the  Italian  woman  medium  whom  he  kept  in  his 

116 


THE   DEW   OF   PARNASSUS 

o'WTi  house,  Thomas  Adolphus  Trollope  speaks 
somewhat  at  length  in  his  reminiscences,  and 
says  that  these  phenomena  convinced  Mr.  Kirkup 
of  the  existence  of  immortahty,  in  which  he  had 
not  previously  believed.  Mr.  Trollope^  also  re- 
lates the  following  incident :  — 

"  My  wife,  my  wife's  sister,  and  myself  had 
been  spending  the  evening  in  the  house  of  Mr. 
Seymour  Kirkup,  an  artist,  who,  once  well- 
known  in  the  artistic  world,  lived  on  in  Florence 
to  a  great  age  after  that  w^orld  had  forgotten  him. 
.  .  .  Our  visit  was  to  witness  some  of  the  me- 
dium's performances.  ..."  The  Trollopes  felt 
sure  that  the  phenomena  they  witnessed  were 
manufactured  fraudulently  by  the  medium,  "  al- 
though," Mr.  Trollope  remarks,  "  we  knew  poor 
old  Kirkup  far  too  well  to  make  any  attempt  to 
convict  her." 

Mr.  Trollope  continues  :  — 

"  But  as  we  walked  home,  with  our  minds  full 
of  the  subject,  we  said,  '  Let  us  try  whether  we 
can  produce  any  effect  upon  a  table,  since  that 
seems  the  regulation  first-step  in  these    mys- 

1  "  What  I  Remember." 
117 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LAXDOR 

teries ;  and,  at  least,  we  shall  have  the  certainty 
of  not  being  befooled  by  trickery.'  So,  on  reach- 
ing home,  we  took  a  table  —  rather  a  remark- 
able one.  It  was  small,  not  above  eighteen  or 
twenty  inches  across  the  top  of  it.  But  it  was 
very  much  heavier  than  any  ordinary  table  of 
that  size,  the  stem  of  it  being  a  massive  bit 
of  ancient  chestnut- wood  carving  which  I  had 
adapted  to  that  purpose. 

*'Well,  in  a  minute  or  two  the  table  began 
to  move  very  unmistakably.  We  were  startled, 
and  began  to  think  that  the  ladies'  dresses  must 
have,  unconsciously  to  them,  pressed  against  it. 
We  stood  back  therefore,  taking  care  that  noth- 
ing but  the  tips  of  our  fingers  touched  the 
table.  It  still  moved  !  We  said  that  some  un- 
conscious exertion  of  muscular  force  must  have 
caused  the  movement,  and,  finally,  we  suspended 
our  fingers  about  an  inch  or  so  above  the  sur- 
face of  the  table,  taking  the  utmost  care  to 
touch  it  in  no  way  whatever.  The  table  still 
turned,  and  that  to  such  an  extent  that,  en- 
tirely untouched,  it  turned  itself  over,  and  fell 
to  the  ground. 

"  I  can  only  observe  of  this,  as  the  little  boy 
said  who  was  accused  of  relating  an  impossibility 

118 


THE   DEW   OF   PARNASSUS 

as  a  fact,  '  I  don't  say  it  is  possible,  1  only  say 
it  is  true  I '  " 

Robert  Browning  s  attitude  toward  all  these 
curious  manifestations  that  attracted  so  much 
attention  in  Florence  in  the  early  fifties  is  suffi- 
ciently indicated  in  his  "  Mr.  Sludge :  the  Me- 
dium." Hawthorne  records  much  of  it  in  his 
"  Note  Books  "  and  says  that  in  all  the  numerous 
instances  he  still  felt  a  sense  of  unreality.  Mrs. 
Browning's  attitude  toward  these  phenomena 
that  were  manifested  so  persistently  in  Florence 
at  this  time  as  to  attract  the  attention  of  all 
visitors,  was  one  of  intelligent  discrimination 
rather  than  any  foolish  credulity  or  equally  fool- 
ish denial  of  evident  facts.  "  For  my  own  part," 
she  says,  in  alluding  to  her  religious  convictions, 
"  I  have  thought  freely  on  most  subjects,  but 
never,  at  any  point  of  my  life,  have  I  felt  myself 
drawn  toward  Unitarian  opinions.  I  should  throw 
up  revelation  altogether  if  1  ceased  to  recognize 
Christ  as  divine.  ...  I  have  gone  on  predicting 
that  the  present  churches  were  in  course  of  dis- 
solution and  would  have  to  be  followed  by  a 
reconstruction  of  Christian  essential  verity  into 
other  than  these  middle  ages  scholastic   forms. 

119 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

Believing  in  Christ's  divinity,  which  is  the  hfe 
of  Christianity,  I  beheved  this.  ...  I  should 
fear  for  a  revealed  religion  incapable  of  expan- 
sion according  to  the  needs  of  man.  What 
comes  from  God  has  life  in  it,  and  certainly  from 
all  the  growth  of  living  things,  spiritual  growth 
cannot  be  excepted.  .  .  .  As  to  the  supernatural, 
if  you  mean  by  that  the  suspension  of  natural 
law,  I  certainly  believe  in  it  no  more  than  you 
do.  What  happens,  happens  according  to  a  nat- 
ural law,  the  development  of  which  only  becomes 
fuller  and  more  observable.  .  .  .  Every  fact  is  a 
word  of  God.  We  have  to  learn  —  we  in  the 
body  —  that  death  does  not  teach  all  things. 
Foolish  Jack  Smith  who  died  on  Monday  is  on 
Tuesday  still  foolish  Jack  Smith.  If  people 
who  on  Monday  scorned  his  opinions  prudently, 
will  on  Tuesday  receive  his  least  words  as  oracles, 
they  very  naturally  do  something  as  foolish  as 
their  inspirer  is.  .  .  .  Hein  !  ...  if  you  are  in  a 
dungeon  and  a  friend  knocks  through  the  outer 
wall,  spelling  out  the  words  you  comprehend,  you 
don't  think  the  worse  of  the  friend  in  the  sun 
who  remembers  you." 

Mrs.  Browning  and  Mrs.  Stowe  discussed  in 
a  prolonged  correspondence  the  problem  involved 

120 


,  THE   DEW   OF   TARXxVSSUS 

in  these  curious  manifestations  in  Florence,  and 
of  Mrs.  Stowe's  convictions  INIrs.  Browning  thus 
writes  in  a  letter  ^  to  a  friend  :  — 

"  Mrs.  Stowe  had  heard,  she  said,  for  the  fifth 
time  from  her  boy  (the  one  who  was  drowned  in 
that  awful  manner  through  caiTying  out  a  college 
jest)  without  any  seeking  on  her  part.  She  gave 
me  a  minute  account  of  a  late  manifestation,  not 
seeming  to  have  a  doubt  in  respect  to  the  verity 
and  identity  of  the  spirit.  In  fact,  secret  things 
were  told,  reference  to  private  papers  made,  the 
evidence  was  considered  most  satisfying.  And 
she  says  that  all  of  the  communications  descrip- 
tive of  the  state  of  that  Spirit,  though  coming 
from  very  different  mediums  (some  high  Calvan- 
ists  and  others  low  infidels)  tallied  exactly.  She 
spoke  very  calmly  about  it,  with  no  dogmatism, 
but  with  the  strongest  disposition  to  receive  the 
fiicts  of  the  subject  with  all  their  bearings,  and 
at  whatever  loss  of  orthodoxy  or  sacrifice  of  repu- 
tation for  common  sense.  I  have  a  high  appre- 
ciation of  her  power  of  forming  opinions,  let 
me  add  to  this.  It  is  one  of  the  most  vital  and 
growing  minds  I  ever  knew.      Besides  the  in- 

1 "  The  Letters  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning."    By  kind  permission 
of  Messrs.  Harper  and  Brothers. 

121 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR, 

ventive,  the  critical  and  analytical  faculties  are 
strong  with  her.  How  many  women  do  you 
know  who  are  religious,  and  yet  analyze  point 
by  point  what  they  believe  in  ?  She  lives  in  the 
midst  of  the  traditional  churches,  and  is  full  of 
reverence  by  nature ;  and  yet  if  you  knew  how 
fearlessly  that  woman  has  torn  up  the  old  cere- 
ments and  taken  note  of  what  is  a  dead  letter 
within,  yet  preserved  her  faith  in  essential  spir- 
itual truth,  you  would  feel  more  admiration  for 
her  than  even  for  writing  *  Uncle  Tom.'  There 
are  quantities  of  irreverent  women  and  men  who 
profess  infidelity.  But  this  is  a  woman  of  another 
order,  observe,  devout  yet  brave  in  the  outlook 
for  truth,  and  considering,  not  whether  a  thing 
be  sound,  but  whether  it  be  true.  Her  views 
are  Swedenborgian  on  some  points,  beyond  him 
where  he  departs  from  orthodoxy  on  one  or  two 
points,  adhering  to  the  orthodox  creed  on  certain 
others." 

No  city,  perhaps,  from  the  days  of  the  myth 
and  miracles  of  the  saints  to  the  present  hour, 
has  had  its  daily  life  so  characterized  by  these 
wonders  as  Florence ;  and  the  Hawthornes, 
Trollopes,  and   Mrs.  Browning  were   especially 

122 


THE   DEW   OF  PARNASSUS 

interested,  during   several   months,  in   studying 
these  psychic  occurrences. 

Among  other  charming  visitors  came  Mr. 
Lytton  (Owen  Meredith),  afterwards  Lord  Lyt- 
ton,  an-iving  in  the  midst  of  all  this  tumult. 
Already  inclined  to  great  interest  in  magic  and 
the  occult  sciences,  he  gave  much  time  to  per- 
sonal observation  and  experiment.  Still  another 
pleasant  centre  of  friendly  intercourse  was  made 
in  Florence  by  Mr.  Lytton  during  his  stay,  as  he 
took  a  villa  on  Bellosguardo,  and  on  one  July 
evening  in  1853  he  gave  a  reception,  on  his 
terrace,  when  Mrs.  Browning  made  the  tea,  and 
strawberries  and  ices  were  served  to  the  guests, 
who  looked  down  upon  Florence  lying  under  the 
stars  "  dissolving  in  the  purple  of  the  hills." 
Frederic  Tennyson,  a  brother  of  the  poet- 
laureate,  was  one  of  the  group,  and  also  Sena- 
tore  Villari,  an  accomplished  young  Sicilian.  Mr. 
Kinney,  the  American  JNIinister  to  the  Court  of 
Turin,  and  Mrs.  Kinney,  {better  kno\Mi  as  Eliza- 
beth Coates  Kinney  the  poet-mother  of  a  poet- 
son,  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman)  were  then  in 
Florence.  Mrs.  Kinney  was  one  of  the  nearer 
friends  of  Mrs.  Browning,  and  they,  with  young 
Lytton  and  Mr.  Tennyson,  often  passed  an  even- 

123 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

ing  in  Casa  Guidi  with  the  Brownings.  Mr. 
Lytton  was  at  that  time  attached  to  the  Lega- 
tion in  Florence,  and  it  is  interesting  to  read 
Mrs.  Bro^vning's  impressions  of  the  future  Am- 
bassador to  Florence  and  Viceroy  of  India,  when 
she  says :  "  Full  of  all  sorts  of  good  and  noble- 
ness he  really  is ;  gifted  with  high  faculties  and 
given  to  the  highest  aspirations.  .  .  .  He  is  about 
to  publish  a  collection  of  his  poems.  I  think 
highly  of  his  capabilities." 

The  poet  Tennyson  made  a  brief  visit  in  Flor- 
ence on  his  way  to  Rome  during  this  period  of 
the  early  fifties  ;  and  also  Thackeray  and  Dickens 
sojourned  there.  Of  the  visit  of  Mr.  Dickens, 
John  Forster  afterward  wrote  :  — 

"  Ten  years  after  Landor  had  lost  this  home, 
an  Englishman  travelling  in  Italy,  his  friend  and 
mine,  visited  the  neighborhood  for  his  sake,  drove 
out  from  Florence  to  Fiesole,  and  asked  his  coach- 
man which  was  the  villa  in  which  the  Landor 
family  lived.  He  was  a  dull  dog,  and  pointed  to 
Boccaccio's.  I  didn't  believe  him.  He  was  so 
deuced  ready  that  I  knew  he  lied.  I  went  up  to 
the  convent,  which  is  on  a  height,  and  was  leaning 
over  a  dwarf  wall  basking  in  the  noble  view  over 

124 


THE   DEW    OF   PARNASSUS 

a  vast  range  of  hill  and  valley,  when  a  little 
peasant  girl  came  up  and  began  to  point  out  the 
localities.  Ecco  la  villa  Landora!  was  one  of  the 
first  half-dozen  sentences  she  spoke.  My  heart 
swelled  almost  as  Landor's  would  have  done  when 
I  looked  down  upon  it,  nestling  among  its  olive- 
trees  and  vines,  and  with  its  upper  windows  (there 
are  five  above  the  door)  open  to  the  setting  sun. 
Over  the  centre  of  these  there  is  another  story, 
set  upon  the  housetop  like  a  tower  ;  and  all  Italy, 
except  its  sea,  is  melted  down  into  the  glowing 
landscape  it  commands.  I  plucked  a  leaf  of  i\y 
from  the  convent  garden  as  I  looked ;  and  here 
it  is.  For  Landor.  With  my  love.  So  wrote 
Mr.  Dickens  to  me  from  Florence  on  the  2d  of 
April,  1845  ;  and  when  I  turned  over  Landor's 
papers  in  the  same  month  after  an  interval  of  ex- 
actly twenty  years,  the  ivy-leaf  was  found  carefully 
enclosed,  with  the  letter  in  which  I  had  sent  it." 

Another  interesting  visitor  was  Count  Pulsky, 
a  friend  of  Kossuth,  who  shared  his  exile  as  a 
political  refugee  of  Hungary.  Together  Kossuth 
and  Count  Pulsky  also  visited  Boston  in  the 
decade  of  1850-60,  and  were  warm  friends  of  the 
great  and  good  Elizabeth  Peabody. 

125 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Margaret  Fuller,  Marchese  d'Ossoli,  with  her 
husband  and  child,  established  herself  in  Florence 
for  some  weeks,  in  an  old  palazzo  at  the  corner  of 
the  Via  della  Misericordia  and  the  Piazza  Santa 
Maria  Novella.  Before  her  windows  rose  the 
Campanile,  seen  against  the  blue  Italian  sky. 
Giving  the  mornings  to  her  literary  work,  the 
evenings  were  devoted  to  her  friends,  among  whom 
were  included  the  Brownings  and  the  Marchesa 
Arconati  Visconti,  an  Italian  lady  of  great  charm 
and  sweetness.  A  visitor  to  Madame  d'Ossoli's 
apartment  in  Florence  gives  this  picture  of  her 
at  home :  — 

**  I  cannot  remember  ever  to  have  found 
Madame  d'Ossoli  alone,  on  those  evenings  when 
she  remained  at  home.  Her  husband  was  always 
with  her.  The  picture  of  their  room  rises  clearly 
on  my  memory.  A  small  square  room,  sparingly, 
yet  sufficiently  furnished,  with  polished  floor  and 
frescoed  ceiling,  —  and,  drawn  up  closely  before 
the  cheerful  fire,  an  oval  table,  on  which  stood 
a  monkish  lamp  of  brass,  with  depending  chains 
that  support  quaint  classic  cups  for  the  olive  oil. 
There,  seated  beside  his  wife,  I  was  sure  to  find 
the  Marchese,  reading  from  some  patriotic  book, 

126 


THE  DEW   OF  PARNASSUS 

and  dressed  in  the  dark  brown,  red-corded  coat 
of  the  Guardia  Civica,  which  it  was  his  melan- 
choly pleasure  to  wear  at  home.  So  long  as  the 
conversation  could  be  carried  on  in  Italian,  he 
used  to  remain,  though  he  rarely  joined  in  it  to 
any  considerable  degree  ;  but  if  a  number  of 
English  and  American  visitors  came  in,  he  used 
to  take  his  leave  and  go  to  the  Cafe  d'ltalia,  be- 
ing very  unwilling,  as  Madame  d'Ossoli  told  me, 
to  impose  any  seeming  restraint,  by  his  presence, 
upon  her  friends,  with  whom  he  was  unable  to 
converse.  For  the  same  reason,  he  rarely  re- 
mained with  her  at  the  houses  of  her  English 
or  American  friends,  though  he  always  accom- 
panied her  thither,  and  returned  to  escort  her 
home." 

^Irs.  Browning  found  Madame  d'Ossoli,  the  cel- 
ebrated American  woman,  extremely  interesting 
in  personal  conversation ;  "  but,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Browning,  "  if  I  wished  any  one  to  do  Madame 
d'Ossoli  justice,  I  should  say,  '  Never  read  what 
she  has  written.'  Her  written  words  are  just 
naught.  Her  letters  are  individual  and  full  of 
that  magnetic  personal  influence  which  was  so 
strong  in  her.  ...  I  felt  drawn  to  her.     I  loved 

127 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LxVNDOR 

her,  and  the  circumstances  of  her  death  struck 
me  to  the  very  roots  of  my  heart.  The  comfort 
is  that  she  lost  httle  in  this  world." 

The  ]\Iarchese  and  INIarchesa  d'Ossoli  had  passed 
their  last  evening  in  Florence  with  JNIi-s.  Brown- 
ing, before  sailing  on  the  fatal  voyage,  and  of  this 
last  meeting  JNIrs.  Browning  wrote  to  Miss  Mit- 
ford  :  "  Such  gloom  she  had  in  leaving  Italy ! 
She  was  full  of  sad  presentiment !  Do  you 
know  she  gave  a  Bible  as  a  parting  gift  from  her 
child  to  ours,  writing  in  it,  '  In  memory  of  Angelo 
Eugene  d'Ossoli,'  —  a  strange,  prophetic  expres- 
sion. That  last  evening,"  continued  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing, "  an  old  prophecy  made  to  the  Marquis 
d'Ossoli,  that  he  should  shun  the  sea  as  it  would 
be  fatal  to  him,  was  talked  of  jestingly." 

Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  did  not  meet 
Landor  at  the  time  she  visited  Florence,  —  he 
may  have  been  absent  on  one  of  his  visits  to 
England,  —  but  he  highly  estimated  the  quality 
of  her  genius,  and  when  her  story,  "  The  Minister's 
Wooing,"  was  pubhshed,  Landor  read  it  eagerly 
and  declared  that  no  man  living  had  given  to  the 
world  so  excellent  a  novel.  Mrs.  Browning  and 
Mrs.  Stowe  became  warm  friends,  and  their  cor- 
respondence continued  throughout  INIrs.  Brown- 

128 


THE  DEW   OF  PARNASSUS 

ing's  life.  At  their  parting,  when  Mrs.  Stowe  left 
Florence,  her  last  words  to  Mrs,  Browning  were  : 
**  Those  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  never 
see  one  another  for  the  last  time."  The  words 
almost  paraphrase  an  ancient  Oriental  aphorism, 
—  "  Those  who  meet  in  good  never  separate." 

In  the  meantime  happy  years  were  gliding  by 
in  Casa  Guidi,  where  the  wedded  poets  were 
giving  to  the  world  their  poems ;  reading  the 
books,  new  and  old,  that  drifted  down  to  them  ; 
seeing  a  few  friends,  and  interesting  themselves 
always  in  the  world's  important  events.  Harriet 
Hosmer,  always  a  great  favorite  with  Mrs. 
Browning,  visited  them  from  the  Eternal  City ; 
and  John  Kenyon,  their  most  sympathetic  friend 
and  benefactor,  came  frequently  from  his  English 
home.  To  Landor,  too,  came  Mr.  Kenyon,  of 
whom  Southey  wrote  (in  IS-iT)  that  "  everybody 
liked  him  at  first  sight,  and  liked  him  better  the 
longer  he  was  known ;  that  he  had  then  himself 
known  him  three-and-twenty  years ;  that  he 
was  of  all  his  friends  one  of  the  very  best  and 
pleasantest ;  and  that  he  reckoned  as  one  of  his 
whitest  days  the  day  he  first  fell  in  with  him." 
"  Kenyon  had  accomplishments  of  no  ordinary 
kind,"  wrote  John  Forster  of  him,  "and  could 

9  129 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

give  and  take  with  the  best  who  assembled  at  his 
table.  He  wrote  manly  English  verse,  was  a 
fair  scholar,  a  good  critic  of  books  and  art,  an 
observer  on  whom  unusual  opportunities  of 
seeing  much  of  the  world  had  not  been  thrown 
away  ;  and,  in  a  familiar  friendship  with  him  of 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  I  never  saw  him  use  for 
mere  personal  display  any  one  advantage  he  thus 
possessed.  He  was  always  thinking  of  others, 
always  planning  to  get  his  own  pleasure  out  of 
theirs ;  and  Landor  in  this  respect  was  an  un- 
tiring satisfaction  to  him.  He  displayed  his 
enjoyment  so  thoroughly.  The  laugh  was  en- 
couraged till  the  room  shook  again  ;  and,  while 
Landor  would  defend  to  the  death  some  inde- 
fensible position,  assail  with  prodigious  vigor  an 
imaginary  enemy,  or  blow  himself  and  his  adver- 
sary together  into  the  air  with  the  explosion  of  a 
joke,  the  radiant  glee  of  Kenyon  was  a  thing  not 
to  be  forgotten.  I  have  seen  it  shared  at  the 
same  moment,  in  an  equal  degree,  by  Archdeacon 
Hare  and  Sir  Robert  Harry  Inglis." 

During  Hawthorne's  summer  in  Florence,  as 
the  days  grew  warm  he  removed  to  the  Villa 
Mont- Auto  on  ^he  heights  of  Bellosguardo.  Not 
far  away  was  the  Villa  Brichieri,  where  Isa  Blag- 

130 


THE   DEW   OF   PARNASSUS 

den  had  set  up  her  household  gods,  and  where,  for 
a  time,  JNIiss  Frances  Power  Cobbe  came  in  the 
spring  of  18G0,  sharing  JMiss  151agden's  home  and 
quite  impressing  their  callers  and  visitors  with  her 
brilliant  conversation.  JMiss  Blagden  was  evi- 
dently a  woman  of  the  most  sympathetic  and  re- 
sponsive temperament,  with  a  power  of  entering 
into  close  and  beautiful  relations  with  a  very  wide 
and  various  range  of  people.  The  many  strong 
and  altogether  dissimilar  individualities  that  com- 
posed this  cercle  intime  all  found  some  point  of 
common  meeting  with  "  Isa,"  as  they  all  called 
her.  She  was  Mrs.  Browning's  most  intimate 
friend,  and  a  large  proportion  of  the  "  Letters  "  of 
Mrs.  Browning,  published  under  the  able  and  ex- 
quisite editorship  of  Mr.  Frederick  Kenyon,  were 
WTitten  to  Miss  Blagden.  To  her,  letters  from 
Mrs.  Browning  simply  wrote  themselves, — so  un- 
failing was  the  spiritual  sympathy  between  them. 
The  psychology  of  letter-writing  would  involve 
subtile  analysis  of  spiritual  magnetism.  The 
quality  of  a  letter  really  depends  much  more  on 
the  person  to  whom  it  is  wTitten  than  on  the 
writer.  It  is  something,  or  nothing,  according  to 
the  quality  of  the  spirit  that  attracts  this  expres- 
sion.    Letter- writing  is  therefore  always  a  relative 

131 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

and  never  an  absolute  capacity.  **  A  letter  is  a 
spiritual  gift,"  Emerson  has  well  said,  and  like 
any  other  of  the  higher  relations,  it  gives  itself. 
A  mere  mechanical  chronicle  can  always  be  pro- 
duced ;  but  the  real  letter  writes  itself  or  it  is  not 
written. 

A  learned  professor  in  the  Smithsonian  Insti- 
tute has  said  that  if  any  substance  could  be 
found  that  would  effectually  arrest  magnetism, 
the  secret  of  perpetual  motion  could  be  solved  ; 
but  as  yet  no  such  element  could  be  found. 
The  electric  current  can  be  stopped  ;  the  mag- 
netic current  is  as  inevitable  as  is  the  attraction 
of  gravitation.  Nothing,  so  far  as  is  yet  known 
to  science,  can  arrest  it.  The  analogy  between 
spiritual  and  terrestrial  magnetism  is  impressed 
upon  one.  Nothing  can  possibly  arrest  the  mag- 
netic current  of  spiritual  sympathy,  and  this 
relation  between  Mrs.  Browning  and  Miss  Blag- 
den  seemed  a  predestined  one  of  temperamental 
sympathy. 

In  the  Terrestrial  Laboratory  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Catania  in  Sicily  there  is  a  geo-dynamic 
apparatus  which  registers,  with  the  greatest  ac- 
curacy of  precision,  the  conditions  of  stability  of 
the   earth.     The  slightest   variation  is  instantly 

132 


THE   DEW   OF   PARNASSUS 

recorded  by  the  pendulums,  of  the  utmost  deli- 
cacy of  structure.  These  seismographs  are  all 
placed  on  tables  of  solid  stone  penetrating  a 
hundred  feet  into  the  bed  rock  and  protected  by 
glass  cases.  They  register  the  faintest  tremor  of 
the  earth  caused  by  internal  forces,  and  these 
instruments  are  so  sensitive  that  even  the  pres- 
ence of  a  person  standing  near  expands  the  steel 
and  disturbs  the  adjustment.  There  are  eight 
of  these  delicately  adjusted  instruments  all  con- 
nected by  an  electrical  circuit.  One  cannot  stand 
in  this  subterranean  chamber  watching  these 
scientific  appliances,  so  sensitive  to  the  slightest 
breath,  without  perceiving  their  analogy  to  the 
spiritual  life  of  man.  There  are  natures  that 
instantly  register  in  the  mental  life  any  vari- 
ation caused  by  the  presence  and  the  character 
of  those  with  whom  they  come  in  contact. 
Mrs.  Browning  was  pre-eminently  one  of  these. 
The  poet,  by  the  very  nature  that  predetermines 
a  poet,  must  be 

"...  musical. 
Tremulous,  impressional," 

and  Mrs.  Browning  lived  poetry  as  truly  as  she 
wrote  it.  She  was  one  of  whom  it  can  truly  be 
said  that  she  never  misapprehended,  never  under- 

133 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

valued  any  intention  of  kindness  or  courtesy. 
One  instance  of  this  is  obvious  in  a  little,  undated 
note  written  to  Kate  Field,  who  was  then,  as  a 
young  girl,  placed  in  the  care  of  Miss  Blagden. 
It  would  seem  from  the  note  that  Miss  Field, 
with  something  of  the  presumption  of  earliest 
youth,  had  proffered  some  suggestion  of  her  own 
to  INIrs.  Browning,  who  does  not,  however,  reject 
it  as  somewhat  of  an  audacity,  but  replies,  in  an 
undated  note  :  — 

(After  Villafranca.) 

My  dear  Miss  Field, —  I  thank  you  for 
your  excellent  advice,  and  also  the  vision  of  your 
bright,  earnest  face  given  in  the  sight  of  your 
handwi'iting.  Do  observe  that  the  "  amnesty  " 
full  and  entire,  spoken  of  in  "  La  foi  des  traites," 
is  just  given  in  France.  This  is  the  "second 
phrase  of  the  Empire,"  and  to  be  followed  by  a 
larger  measm'c  of  liberal  concessions.  . 

Which  confirms  and  verifies  the  book.  For 
the  writer.  Napoleon  walks  under,  as  well  as  on, 
the  earth.  Now,  in  Italy,  he  is  walking  under  ; 
but  walking,  —  surely,  —  and  we  may  congrat- 
ulate one  another  in  hope  again. 

Then  for  lesser  hopes  —  we  shall  meet  on  the 

134. 


THE   DEW   OF   TxVRNASSUS 

dear  terrace,  all  alive,  I  hope.  And  also  I  hope 
you  will  accompany  JNliss  Blagden,  my  dear  Isa 
(1  can't  leav^ea  Miss  Blagden  so),  when  she  comes 
to  pay  us  a  visit.  It  will  give  us  pleasure,  dear 
JNliss  Field,  if  you  do. 

Yours  affectionately  ever, 

Elizabeth  B.  Browning. 

Another  of  these  little  notes  to  Kate  Field 
(which  have  never  before  been  published)  runs  : 

(Florence,  1860.) 

July  6. 

Dear  Friend,  —  God  bless  you  and  yours 
for  all  your  kindness,  w^hich  I  shall  never  forget ; 
I  cannot  write  now  —  except  to  say  this  —  and, 
besides,  that  I  have  had  great  comfort  from  the 
begiiming.  I  know  you  are  truth's  self  in  all  you 
profess  to  feel  about  her  —  she  also  loved  you,  as 
yon  felt.  I  shall  see  you  soon  and  talk  to  you. 
JNl eantime  and  ever  remember  me  as 

Your  affectionate  E.  B. 

I  speak  to  INIrs.  Field  also,  you  understand. 

The  sorrowful  tone  in  this  little  note  is  in  ref- 
erence to  the  death  of  Mrs.  Browning's  sister, 
Henrietta,  Mrs.  Surtees  Cook. 

135 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Miss  Blagden  seems  to  have  been  always  near 
Mrs.  Browning,  whether  in  Florence  or  in  the 
adjacent  resorts  to  which  they  flitted  in  the  sum- 
mers. From  Siena,  Mrs.  Browning  wrote  to  an 
English  friend  :  — 

"  Dear  Isa  Blagden  is  spending  the  summer 
in  a  rough  cabin,  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk 
from  here,  and  Mr.  Landor  is  near  by  in  the 
lane.  This  (with  the  Storys  a  mile  oflP)  makes  a 
sort  of  colonization  of  the  country  here." 

Miss  Frances  Power  Cobbe,  who,  as  before 
noted,  shared  for  a  time  Isa  Blagden's  home  in 
Villa  Brichieri,  was  a  brilliant  acquisition  to  the 
Florentine  circle.  The  two  ladies  drew  around 
them  an  interesting  company,  both  in  their  regular 
weekly  receptions  and  for  those  unpremeditated 
social  occasions  that  are  so  delightful.  Robert 
Browning  was  one  of  their  most  familiar  habitues ; 
and  the  ItaUan  poet,  Dall'  Ongaro,  the  TroUopes, 
Mrs.  Stowe,  and  Miss  Linda  White  (now  Mme. 
Pasquale  Villari)  and  others  made  up  a  salon  of 
distinction.  To  Miss  Blagden  and  Miss  Cobbe 
Landor  often  came,  and  although  he  was  then  in 
his  late  eighties,  he  and  Miss  Cobbe  rambled  about 
Florence  together  while  he  poured  out  reminis- 

136 


THE   DEW   OF   PARNASSUS 

cences  of  Southey  and  Shelley  and  other  friends 
of  his  early  life.  Mme.  JNIario,  Frederick  Ten- 
nyson, and  Mrs.  Somerville  were  also  among  the 
nearer  friends  of  Miss  Cobbe,  and  Theodore 
Parker,  with  whom  she  had  held  a  long  and 
deeply  interesting  correspondence,  came  to  Flor- 
ence in  the  spring  of  1860,  only  to  pass  on  into 
the  "  life  more  abundant."  After  his  death  Miss 
Cobbe  made  some  remark  to  Mrs.  Stowe  regard- 
ing the  "  end "  of  Theodore  Parker's  work,  to 
which  Mrs.  Stowe  replied,  with  an  air  of  rebuke, 
"  Do  you  think  God  has  no  work  for  Theodore 
Parker  to  do  now  ? "  Mrs.  Somerville  and  Miss 
Cobbe  appear  to  have  devoted  their  genius  largely 
to  discussions  of  the  character  of  Christ,  and  as  to 
what  conceptions  the  apostles  held  of  Him,  with 
the  conversational  zeal  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  INIr.  Alcott's  disciples  in  his  School  of 
Philosophy  in  Concord. 

Harriet  Hosmer,  that  "  bewitching  sprite,"  as 
Miss  Cobbe  calls  her,  flitted  over  from  her  Roman 
studio  now  and  then,  delighting  all  this  famous 
circle  with  her  irresistible  charm.  At  that  time 
Miss  Hosmer  had  achieved  her  "  Zenobia,"  her 
"  Puck,"  her  "  Sleeping  Faun  "  and  her  "  Beatrice 
Cenci,"  and  great  things  were  prophesied  for  her. 

137 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

Although  INIiss  Hosmer  has  left  on  art  a  notable 
impress,  she  was  destined  to  achieve  a  still  finer 
and  more  permanent  success  by  a  noble  and 
beautiful  life  which  gladdened  all  who  came 
within  her  influence,  and  was  forever  lofty  and 
fair  in  its  exquisite  friendships  and  its  sweet 
and  liberal  sympathy  with  all  that  is  noblest 
in  human  progress. 

Isa  Blagden  was  the  daughter  of  a  strange 
union,  that  of  an  English  gentleman  and  a  Hin- 
doo princess,  and  many  Oriental  characteristics 
were  apparent  in  her  temperament.  She  lived 
on  in  Florence  until  her  death  in  1873.  Mme. 
Villari  was  with  her  at  the  last ;  and  her  grave  in 
the  little  Enghsh  cemetery  is  quite  near  that  of 
]Mrs.  Browning. 

Though  not  so  famous  in  the  literary  world  as 
his  brother,  Anthony  Trollope,  the  novelist, 
Thomas  Adolphus  Trollope  had  already  during 
these  years  achieved  recognition  for  his  "  Girl- 
hood of  Catherine  de'  Medici,"  "  A  Decade  of 
Italian  Women,"  "  Life  of  Filippo  Strozzi,"  his 
novel,  "La  Beata,"  and  other  works,  of  which 
the  most  important  is  his  "  History  of  Florence,". 
—  an  achievement  which  Professor  Villari,  the 
great   scholar  and   incomparable   biographer   of 

138 


THE   DEW   OF   PARXASSUS 

Machiavelli  and  of  Savonarola,  pronounced  the 
best  among  the  many  histories  of  tlie  Tuscan 
capital. 

"  The  study  of  bygone  Florentines  had  an  in- 
terest for  me  which  was  quickened  by  the  daily 
study  of  living  Florentines,"  said  ]\Ir.  Trollope  of 
this  work.  All  this  group  that  made  famous  the 
social  life  of  Flqfence  during  the  middle  years  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  were  people  with  serious 
purposes  in  life,  people  engaged  in  serious  work  ; 
but  they  were  not  without  their  appreciation  of 
the  nectar  and  ambrosia  of  living,  and  one  of  their 
special  devices  for  securing  these  was  by  picnics. 
The  favorite  resort  for  festivity  w^as  at  Protolino,  a 
grand-ducal  park  belonging  to  some  of  the  later 
iMedici,  some  seven  miles  from  P^lorence  on  the 
road  to  Bologna.  The  principal  attraction  at 
tliis  place,  Mr.  Trollope  relates,  aside  fi'om  the 
mao-nificent  \'iew  over  the  thousand  villas  of  the 
Val  d'  Arno,  and  over  Florence  enshrined  in  its 
purple  hills,  was  the  colossal  figure  designed  by 
Michaeh  Angelo,  "  the  Appennino,"  so  great  that 
a  platform  holding  four  or  five  persons  rested  on 
the  top  of  the  head. 

Mr.  Trollope  gossips  pleasantly,  in  his  '*  Remi- 
niscences," of  the  American  Minister  to  Florence 

139 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

in  those  days,  George  P.  Marsh,  with  his  very 
lovely  and  attractive  wife,  —  a  man  of  liberal 
culture  and  a  most  accomplished  philologist.  To 
escape  the  intense  heat  of  a  Florentine  summer 
he  went  to  Vallombrosa,  where  he  died,  and  his 
body  was  brought  down  the  mountain  on  the 
shoulders  of  some  of  the  young  students  of  the 
School  of  Forestry  on  the  height,  who  greatly 
loved  and  honored  Mr.  Marsh. 

A  Boston  friend  of  the  Brownings,  Mr.  George 
S.  Hillard,  was  often  at  Casa  Guidi,  and  long 
discussions  of  the  classic  and  the  Elizabethan  poets 
were  carried  on  by  himself  and  Mr.  Browning. 
Mr.  Hillard  remarked  afterward  that  he  found  the 
conversation  of  Mr.  Browning  like  the  poetry  of 
Chaucer,  which  enigmatic  compliment  remains  to 
this  day  unexplained. 

Mrs.  Jameson,  too,  was  a  near  friend  and  hab- 
itue of  Casa  Guidi,  where  her  inability  to  play 
whist  was  less  a  matter  of  regret  than  at  Mrs. 
Trollope's  house.  During  these  years  Mrs. 
Jameson  was  assiduously  visiting  the  various 
Italian  cities,  engaged  in  that  monumental  task 
of  collating  the  legends  and  of  writing  the  Com- 
mentaries on  Italian  art  that  make  up  the  long  list 
of  her  works.     A  gentle,  refined,  and  melancholy 

140 


THE   DEW   OF  PARNASSUS 

personality,  never  escaping  the  shadow  of  the 
great  grief  that  came  into  her  hfe,  she  ghdes  hke 
a  spectral  figure  through  the  illuminated  chron- 
icle, the  social  missal,  of  this  brilliant  group, 
during  these  Florentine  years,  when  each  one, 
it  may  be,  of  this  "joyous  company  "  may  have  — 

"  Heard  the  faint  rustle  of  leaves  astir  in  the  breath  of  the 
South, 
Felt  the  soft  lips  of  the  drj'ad  laid  on  his  eyelids  and  mouth  : 

"  So  slept  till  the  stars  were  all  folded ;  till,  bright  on  the  dim 
mountain  lawn, 
The  Muses  came  singing  to  wake  him,  pouring  the  wine  of 
the  dawn  ! " 


Ul 


No  sun  could  die  nor  yet  be  horn  unaeen 

By  dwellers  at  my  villa  :  morn  and  eve 

Were  magnijied  before  us  in  the  pure 

Illimitable  space  and  pause  of  sky, 

Intense  as  angels'  garments  blanched  7vith  God, 

Less  blue  than  radiant.     From  the  outer  ivall 

Of  the  garden,  drops  the  mystic  floating  grey 

Of  olive-trees  (nnth  inteiTuptions  green 

From  maize  and  vine),  until  't  is  caught  and  torn 

Upon  the  abrupt  black  line  of  cypresses 

Which  signs  the  way  to  Florence.     Beautiful 

The  city  lies  along  the  ample  vale, 

Cathedral,  tower  and  palace,  piazca  and  street. 

The  river  trailing  like  a  silver  cord 

Through  all,  and  curling  loosely,  both  before 

And  after,  over  the  whole  stretch  of  land 

Sown  whitely  up  and  doivn  its  opposite  slopes 

With  farms  and  villas. 

Aurora  Leigh. 

All  around  him  Patmos  lies. 
Who  hath  spirit-gifted  eyes, 
Who  his  happy  sight  can  suit 
To  the  great  and  the  minute. 
Doubt  not  but  he  holds  in  viav 
A  new  earth  and  heaven  new; 


Doubt  not  but  his  ear  doth  catch 
Strains  nor  voice  nor  reed  can  match  ; 
Ma7iy  a  silver,  sphery  note 
Shall  within  his  hearing  Jioat. 

Manifold  his  fellowships : 
Now  the  rocks  their  archives  ope  ; 
Voiceless  creatures  tell  their  hope 
In  a  language  symbol-wrought  ; 
Groves  to  him  sigh  out  their  thought; 
Musings  of  the  flower  and  grass 
Through  his  quiet  spirit  pass. 

All  around  him  Patmos  lies, 
Who  hath  spirit-gifted  eyes  ; 
He  need  not  afar  remove. 
He  need  not  the  times  reprove, 
Who  would  hold  perpetual  lease 
Of  an  isle  in  seas  of  peace. 

Edith  Thomas. 


144 


IV 

IDYLLIC   HOURS   IN   FLORENTINE  SAUNTERINGS 

♦*  So  on  our  soul  the  visions  rise 
Of  that  fair  life  we  never  lead." 

To  the  "  spirit-gifted  eyes  "  of  painter  and  poet 
the  vision  of  St.  John  at  Patmos  is  ever  being  re- 
vealed. It  assumes  varied  forms  and  offers  many 
phases  of  significance  ;  and  if  these  "  spirit-gifted 
eyes"  open  upon  Florence,  where  the  beauty  of 
the  past  continually  mingles  with  the  present, 
the  vision  can  hardly  fail  to  catch  an  added  glory 
whose  *'  imprisoned  splendor  "  remains  through 
life,  exalting  and  ennobling  it.  *'  The  exceptional 
spiritual  sensitiveness  which  characterizes  men  of 
genius  makes  them  more  susceptible  to  the  per- 
manent, the  eternal,  than  are  other  men,"  says 
Dr.  Hiram  Corson,  and  this  group  that  stood  in 
such  near  relations  to  Landor  during  the  last 
years  of  his  life  was  composed  of  persons  all 
peculiarly  responsive  to  the  unwi'itten  charm  of 
Florence.  No  one  expressed  this  appreciation 
more  vividly  than  Mrs.   Browning,  who  wrote; 

10  145 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

"  What  Florence  is,  the  tongue  of  man  or  poet 
may  easily  fail  to  describe  ;  the  most  beautiful 
of  cities,  with  the  golden  Arno  shot  through  the 
heart  of  her  like  an  arrow,  —  exquisitely  beauti- 
ful in  its  garden-ground  of  vineyards  and  oUve 
trees."  This  dream-life  in  the  glorious  city,  with 
old  tapestries  and  pre- Giotto  pictures  on  the 
walls  ;  with  strains  of  wandering  music  ever 
haunting  the  air,  with  the  masterpieces  of  the 
world  lining  the  galleries,  might  well  fascinate 
the  imagination  of  these  gifted  spirits,  —  the 
Brownings  with  their  infinite  depth  and  power 
of  great  genius  and  great  thought,  and  Mr.  Story 
with  his  versatile  talent  and  exquisite  sensitive- 
ness to  impressions.  The  distinguishing  charac- 
teristic of  William  Wetmore  Story  was  a 
devotion  to  beauty.  He  was  endowed  with  a 
temperament  singularly  sensitive  to  art  influences 
in  all  her  varied  forms.  Well  known  as  author 
and  sculptor,  he  was,  besides,  a  painter,  a  mu- 
sician, a  critic,  and  his  authorship  included  poetry, 
romance,  biography,  and  criticism  in  the  attract- 
ive form  of  conversations.  It  is  an  interesting 
speculation  as  to  why  a  man  so  widely  gifted,  so 
singularly  versatile,  and  one,  too,  who  added  to 
his  scholarship  a  fine  culture  and  the  famiharity 

146 


IDYLLIC    HOURS 

with  the  best  society  of  all  cities,  who  had  travelled 
extensively,  and  who  had  in  all  ways  partaken  of 
the  best  results  of  hfe,  was  not  able  to  leave  a 
deeper  and  a  more  permanent  impress.  What- 
ever is  the  gift  which  makes  for  greatness,  Mr. 
Story  did  not  possess.  His  art  was  aesthetic 
rather  than  spiritual.  This  was  true  in  whatever 
form  it  manifested  itself,  whether  poetry,  painting, 
music,  or  sculpture.  A  courteous  gentleman  of 
polished  manner,  great  refinement  and  elegance 
in  ceremonial  grace,  delightful  in  conversation, 
he  will  live  in  the  memory  of  all  who  knew  him 
as  a  charming  personality  ;  but  he  has  left  to  the 
future  the  legacy,  chiefly,  of  an  unfjiltering  devo- 
tion to  beauty.  To  her  he  builded  his  altar. 
She  was  the  goddess  of  his  life,  his  aim  and  in- 
spiration. That  instinct  of  form  that  made  him 
the  sculptor  is  seen  in  all  his  work.  His  writ- 
ing is  all  polished  and  symmetrical,  in  its  literary 
structure.  There  is  in  it  nothing  of  any  abiding 
intellectual  or  spiritual  significance,  but  in  his  own 
way  INIr.  Story  contributed  much  of  signal  value 
to  progress  ;  for  the  culture  of  beauty,  earned  to 
the  high  degi-ee  of  perfection  to  which  he  MTought 
it  out,  radiates  an  influence  for  the  refinement  and 
uplifting  of  life  that  cannot  be  calculated. 

U7 


THE    FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

Judge  Story,  his  father,  was  a  celebrated  jurist, 
and  a  graduate  of  Harvard.  The  younger  Story 
showed  in  early  youth  more  inclination  to  music 
than  to  any  other  art.  He  was  graduated  from 
Harvard  in  1838,  took  a  law  course,  and  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  bar.  He  wrote,  he  modelled,  he 
found  it  difficult  to  concentrate  his  attention  on 
legal  problems,  and,  finally,  in  1847,  betook  him- 
self to  Italy,  where  he  and  the  young  wife  he  had 
married  in  1843  (Miss  Eldridge,  of  Cambridge), 
set  up  their  household  gods  in  the  old  Barberini 
palace  in  Rome,  whence  they  enjoyed  frequent 
interludes  in  Florence ;  and  they  also  passed  many 
summers  in  Siena  with  the  Brownings  for  near 
neighbors  and  inseparable  companions.  "  The 
Storys  are  at  the  top  of  the  hill,"  wrote  JNIrs. 
Browning  one  summer  day  from  Siena ;  "  she 
and  I  go  backward  and  forward  on  donkey-back 
to  tea-drinking  and  gossiping  at  one  another's 
houses  and  our  husbands  hold  the  reins."  All  this 
pleasantly  informal  al  fresco  intimacy  pervaded 
their  Siena  summers.  Mr.  Story,  as  has  been 
said,  seems  to  have  been  endowed  with  facility 
rather  than  with  great  original  power,  but  a  fa- 
ciHty  so  finely  trained  and  cultured  that  it  was 
not  of  that  fatal  order  which  too  often  ends  in 

148 


IDYLLIC    HOURS 

mediocrity.  Going  abroad,  he  had  sufficient  re- 
sources on  which  to  draw,  so  that  he  never  knew 
the  artist's  traditional  struggle  with  poverty.  He 
was  free  to  loiter  on  the  ten-aces  of  the  Frascata 
villa,  to  watch  the  panorama  of  light  over  the 
mysterious  Campagna,  to  enter  into  the  enchant- 
ment and  the  splendor  of  Italy.  Mr.  Story 
became  a  resident  of  Rome  before  its  old,  pic- 
turesque customs  had  disappeared.  The  Villa 
Ludovisi,  embowered  in  ilexes,  was  then  a  haunt 
of  beauty  ;  the  Colonna  gardens,  with  their  broad 
slopes  and  shadowy  glens,  and  the  Forum  and 
the  palace  of  the  Caesars  were  there  with  all  their 
atmosphere  of  romance  and  of  archaeological 
interest.  Thus  he  entered  upon  a  life  lived  in 
ideal  regions. 

The  Story  apartment  in  the  famous  old 
Barberini  palace,  above  the  Piazza  del  Tritone, 
included  forty  rooms.  The  Barberini  is  the 
most  splendid  private  palace  of  Rome.  It  em- 
bodies the  magnificence  as  well  as  the  ambition 
of  Urban  VIII,  by  whom  it  was  built  in  1660. 
On  the  grand  staircase  is  the  lion,  in  high  relief, 
found  at  Palestrina  —  the  lion  before  which 
Canova  used  to  lie  studying  for  his  design  for 
the  tomb  of  Clement  XIII  in  St.  Peter's.     The 

149 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

library  in  the  Barberini  palace  contains  many 
rare  treasures.  It  has  a  collection  of  seven  thou- 
sand manuscripts,  brought  together  by  Cardinal 
Francesco  Barberini,  a  nephew  of  Urban  VIII, 
and  it  contains  letters  of  Galileo,  of  Bembo, 
manuscripts  of  Dante's,  illuminated  missals  from 
Ghirlandajo,  sketches  of  the  old  Roman  houses 
in  the  fifteenth  century,  made  by  Sangallo ;  a 
Hebrew  Bible,  one  of  the  twelve  copies  of  the 
Sancino  edition,  and  other  world-renowned 
treasures. 

At  the  very  top  of  this  old  palace  of  the 
Barberinis  is  a  small  room  decorated  with  bees, 
which  are  the  emblem  of  the  Barberini  coat  of 
arms,  and  in  this  room  is  a  portrait  of  Urban 
VIII,  and  his  will  is  also  preserved  there  in  a 
glass  case.  Cardinal  Barberini  was  the  last  one 
of  the  papal  nephews  to  hold  an  independent 
principality.  It  is  said  that  Urban  VIII  com- 
plained of  his  three  nephews  and  characterized 
the  Cardinal  as  a  saint  who  never  worked  a 
miracle,  Antonio  as  a  monk  who  had  no  patience, 
and  the  General  as  a  soldier  without  a  sword. 

For  more  than  half  a  century  the  Storys  lived 
in  the  old  Palazzo  Barberini,  their  apartment 
being  a  treasure-house  of  art.     The  views  from 

150 


IDVLLIC   HOURS 

every  window  were  beautiful  enough  to  repay  a 
journey  to  Rome  to  gaze  upon  these  alone. 
Looking  across  the  Eternal  City  to  the  Janiculum, 
the  dome  of  St.  Peter's  was  silhouetted  against 
the  blue  Italian  sky,  and  the  grandeur  of  the 
colossal  Castle  San  Angelo,  seen  near,  added  an 
impressive  feature  to  the  landscape.  Near  the 
Barberini  palace  is  the  Fountain  of  Trevi,  into 
whose  waters  every  traveller  casts  his  penny,  that 
he  may,  according  to  tradition,  insure  his  return 
to  the  city  of  his  love  and  dreams. 

From  the  first  Mr.  Story  had  the  special  ad- 
vantages of  fine  and  intelligent  sympathy  with 
his  work  and  aims  and  the  encouragement  of 
recognition.  Hawthorne,  Lowell,  and  Longfellow 
were  among  his  nearest  friends.  Ha^^'thorne,  in 
"  The  Marble  Faun,"  made  the  studio  of  Mr. 
Story  one  of  the  prominent  features  of  that 
wonderful  romance  of  Rome.  His  statue  of 
Cleopatra  (now  in  the  Metropolitan  oNluseum  in 
New  York)  was  invested  with  world-wide  fame 
for  all  the  ages  by  Hawthorne's  exquisite  inter- 
pretation of  its  significance.  It  was  in  Rome 
that  the  Storys  first  met  the  BroAMiings,  and  the 
friendship  formed  between  them  continued  for 
life. 

151 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

To  turn  back  to  the  pages  of  "The  Marble 
Faun "  and  read  them,  seeing  Mr.  Story  pre- 
sented under  the  guise  of  the  young  sculptor, 
Kenyon,  is  to  gain  a  magic  view  of  his  early  life 
in  Rome,  in  such  a  paragraph  of  Hawthorne's, 
for  instance,  as  this:  — 

"Kenyon's  studio  was  in  a  cross  street,  or,  rather, 
an  ugly  and  dirty  little  lane  "  (Mr.  Hawthorne 
writes),  "  between  the  Corso  and  the  Via  della 
Ripetta,  and  though  chill,  narrow,  gloomy,  and 
burdened  with  tall  and  shabby  structures,  the 
lane  was  not  a  whit  more  disagreeable  than  nine- 
tenths  of  the  Roman  streets.  Over  the  door 
of  one  of  the  houses  was  a  marble  tablet,  bearing 
an  inscription  to  the  purport  that  the  sculptor's 
rooms  within  had  formerly  been  occupied  by  the 
illustrious  artist,  Canova.  In  these  precincts 
(which  Canova's  genius  was  not  quite  a  character 
to  render  sacred,  though  it  certainly  made  them 
interesting)  the  young  American  sculptor  had 
now  established  himself." 

And  of  Mr.  Story's  personal  appearance  we 
find  Hawthorne  saying  :  — 

"  The  sculptor  had  a  face  which,  when  time 
should  have  done  a  little  more  for  it,  would  offer 

152 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

a  worthy  subject  for  as  good  an  artist  as  himself, 
features  finely  cut,  as  if  already  marble  ;  an  ideal 
forehead,  deeply  set  eyes,  and  a  mouth  much 
hidden  in  a  light-brown  beard,  but  apparently 
sensitive  and  delicate." 

Hawthorne's  description  of  the  statue  of 
Cleopatra  is  an  exquisite  bit  of  artistic  interpre- 
tation, which  is,  as  a  rule,  much  truer  than  mere 
art  criticism. 

Mr.  Story  made  himself  an  important  factor 
in  all  the  European  social  and  artistic  life.  His 
home  became  the  resort  of  the  noted  poets, 
artists,  statesmen,  and  cultivated  travellers.  Mrs. 
Story's  receptions  were  famous  in  Rome  for  the 
brilliant  circle  she  drew  around  her.  Not  a  man 
of  powerful  original  genius,  INIr.  Story  will  con- 
tinue to  hold  a  unique  place  among  American 
artists.  He  had  the  temperament  that  absorbs 
and  assimilates  that  to  which  it  is  attracted. 
His  gifts  did  not  equal  Vedder's  in  creative  force 
and  in  that  wonderful  insight  which  character- 
izes Mr.  A'edder,  and  which  is  more  than  insight 
and  becomes  divination ;  yet  it  was  the  part  of 
Story  to  amass  wealth  and  a  wide  reputation 
that  could  easily  be  mistaken  for  a  wide  fame, 

153 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

and  to  draw  to  himself  a  world  of  emoluments 
in  general  that  the  genius  of  Vedder  has  never 
compassed.  JNIr.  Story's  genius  was  of  the  as- 
similative order ;  Mr.  Vedder 's  is  of  the  creative. 
jNIr.  Story's  imagination  could  fix  itself  on 
Cleopatra  and  cause  her  to  live  again  in  a  won- 
derful embodiment  in  marble ;  but  Mr.  Vedder 
could  see  the  "  Dance  of  the  Pleiades  "  and  "  The 
Fates  Gathering  in  the  Stars "  and  interpret 
the  spiritual  mysteries  of  life.  Nothing  in  the 
profoundest  depths  of  life  ever  revealed  itself  to 
^Ir.  Story,  yet  his  very  fine  order  of  talent  was 
so  constantly  fed  from  high  sources,  so  polished 
and  cultivated  on  all  of  its  many-faceted  sides, 
and  sustained  by  such  exquisite  quality  of  taste 
that  it  is  sometimes  difficult  to  distinguish  it 
from  genius.  He  was  born  into  a  certain  en- 
vironinent  of  refinement  and  culture  that  always 
remained  with  him  through  hfe.  His  first  liter- 
ary work  was  to  write  the  biography  of  his 
father,  Judge  Story,  an  eminent  jurist  of  the 
old  Bay  State,  a  work  that  included  the  editing 
of  a  large  number  of  important  letters  from  dis- 
tinguished people ;  and  one  of  his  earliest  com- 
missions in  art  was  that  of  a  statue  of  Judge 
Story,  which  is  one  of  the  four  statues  of  great 

154 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

men  placed  in  the  beautiful  Chapel  of  Mt. 
Auburn  cemetery  near  Boston  ;  and  another 
of  the  early  commissions  of  ]Mr.  Story  was  for 
a  statue  of  George  I*eabody,  who,  although  a 
native  of  Vermont,  became  a  London  banker. 
He  is  also  the  sculptor  of  the  statue  of  Edward 
Everett,  in  the  Public  Garden  in  Boston. 
Among  his  imaginative  works,  besides  the  "  Cleo- 
patra," are  a  "Sibyl,"  "Saul,"  "Sappho,"  the 
"  Infant  Bacchus,"  a  "  Medea,"  and  one  work 
especially  fine  in  its  ideal  conception  —  "  Jeru- 
salem in  Her  Desolation,"  personified  by  a  noble 
female  figure  in  flowing  draperies. 

Mr.  Story's  literary  work,  although  gi-aceful 
and  full  of  charm,  is  still  the  literature  of  re- 
sponse and  assimilation,  rather  than  of  strictly 
original  creation  ;  but  his  "  Roba  di  Roma  "  and 
a  few  of  his  poems  can  hardly  fail  to  hold  an 
abiding-place  in  letters.  The  "  Roba  di  Roma" 
seems  to  be  written  out  of  the  overflow  of  ar- 
tistic impression  and  suggestion.  INIr.  Stoiy 
adopted  Landor's  favorite  form,  the  dialogue,  for 
the  expression  of  this  series  of  running  com- 
ment, and  the  "  Roba  di  Roma  "  remains  a  store- 
house of  no  little  artistic  and  literary  treasure. 
It  is  a  book  which  is  little  known  and  less  read, 

155 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

save  among  specialists,  but  it  well  repays  a  care- 
ful reading,  and  is  worthy  of  a  permanent  place 
in  every  library.  In  the  little  story,  "  Fiametta," 
is  an  airily  touched  bit  of  Italian  romance,  and  in 
"  He  and  She,  a  Poet's  Portfolio,"  is  another 
dialogue  work  devoted  to  literary  comment. 
Although  INIr.  Story's  writings  have  recogniz- 
able claim  as  reflecting  a  refined  and  thought- 
ful culture,  it  is  in  his  art  as  a  sculptor  and 
in  the  variety  and  choice  associations  of  his 
social  life,  that  his  best  expression  may  be 
found,  and  even  claim,  because  of  refinement 
and  poetic  feeling,  a  certain  immortality,  even 
though  the  art  of  sculpture,  under  the  power- 
ful influence  of  Rodin,  has  leaped  into  a  new 
period  with  new  ideals  and  new  standards 
which  have  fairly  transformed  its  basis  of 
estimate. 

In  Mr.  Story's  prose  there  is,  perhaps,  little 
that  will  endure  ;  but  among  his  poems  there  are 
two,  "  Cleopatra "  and  "  Estrangement,"  which 
are  by  way  of  being  remarkable. 

The  former  is  one  of  the  most  intense,  yet 
subtle,  expressions  of  passionate  love  to  be  found, 
perhaps,  in  English  lyrics ;  the  latter  embodies  a 
feeling  that  all  have  experienced  —  of  the  unex- 

156 


IDYLLIC  HOURS 

plained  and  indefinable  change  that  comes  some- 
times between  friends. 

"  How  is  it  ?     It  seems  so  strange  ; 

Only  a  month  ago 
And  we  were  such  friends  ;  now  there  's  a  change  ; 

Why,  I  scarcely  know. 
It  is  not  that  I  express 

Less,  but  a  little  more, 
A  little  more  accent,  a  little  more  stress. 

Which  was  not  needed  before." 

In  his  "  Roba  di  Roma "  IVIr.  Story  gives  a 
study  of  Rome  whose  interest  and  value  must 
be  recognized.  The  two  volumes  of  "  Conversa- 
tions in  a  Studio  "  offer  criticism  on  life  and  art 
that  is  stimulating,  suggestive,  and  fine,  contain- 
ing the  later  fruits  of  Mr.  Story's  ideas  and 
impressions  concerning  art  and  literature. 

The  Storys  and  the  Brownings  were  mucli 
together  in  Rome.  INIargaret  Fuller  and  Mrs. 
Story  were  on  the  most  intimate  terms,  and  at 
the  time  of  INIiss  Fuller's  secret  marriage  to  the 
Marchese  d'  Ossoli  it  was  to  Mrs.  Story  that 
she  went  for  counsel  and  sympathy.  Charlotte 
Cushman,  Harriet  Hosmer,  the  Hawthornes, 
James  Jackson  Jarves,  and  many  another  of  the 
most  interesting  and  famous  people  were  among 
the   circle   that   the   Storys   drew   about  them. 

157 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

Thackeray  was  a  delighted  visitor  at  Mr.  Story's 
studio  and  at  his  home.  In  1893  Mr.  and  INIrs. 
Story  celebrated  their  golden  wedding,  and  they 
tlien  looked  back  over  forty-five  years  of  their 
beautiful  art  life  in  the  Eternal  City.  They  had 
three  children,  —  Waldo,  a  sculptor  in  Rome ; 
Julian,  the  painter,  who  is  the  husband  of  Emma 
Eames,  and  a  daughter,  who  married  the  JVIar- 
chese  Peruzzi,  of  an  old  Florentine  family  closely 
allied  with  the  Medici,  and  whose  home  is  in 
Florence,  with  a  summer  residence  at  Vallom- 
brosa,  where  Mr.  Story  died  in  1895. 

Florence  offered  the  choicest  scenic  setting  for 
all  this  drama  of  friendship.  To  Landor,  an  en- 
thusiastic lover  of  pictures  ;  to  Browning,  who 
was  always  deeply  interested  in  the  intellectual 
forces  of  Tuscany  ;  to  Story,  with  his  swift  sym- 
pathies and  versatile  culture,  all  the  Florentine 
background  gave  color  and  joy  to  their  social 
life.  The  deeper  intellectual  forces  of  Italy  had 
their  origin  in  Florence.  From  the  period  of 
the  Humanists,  on  through  the  radiation  of 
thought  from  the  Platonic  Academy,  the  vast 
influence  of  the  great  libraries  established  in 
Florence  and  the  power  for  culture  that  was 
wielded   so   generously  by  princely  patrons   of 

158 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

learning  and  art,  —  from  all  these  mingled  con- 
ditions arose  the  intellectual  pre-eminence  of 
Florence.  The  Florentines,  like  the  Athenians, 
loved  their  city.  That  Landor  entered  deeply 
into  this  intense  mental  life  that  pervades  Flor- 
ence as  an  atmosphere  is  evident  from  many 
phases  of  his  work,  and  perhaps  especially  so  in 
the  "  Imaginary  Conversation "  represented  as 
taking  place  between  Savonarola  and  ^le  Prior 
of  San  INIarco.  Landor  first  wrote  it  in  Italian 
under  the  title  ''Savonarola  e  il  Priori  di  San 
3Iarc0y'  and  it  was  originally  published  (in  18G0) 
in  pamphlet  form.  In  all  Lander's  literary  work 
nothing  more  impressively  reveals  the  majesty  of 
his  spirit  than  this  work,  nor  has  biography  offered 
any  interpretation  of  Savonarola  that  so  abso- 
lutely penetrated  into  his  wonderful  inner  life  as 
has  Landor  in  this  sympathetic  divination.  "  ]\Iy 
future  is  beginning  in  this  piazza,"  he  makes 
Savonarola  say  at  the  moment  of  his  martjTdom ; 
"  I  can  yet  look  beyond  it.  ...  I  and  my  words 
may  pass  away,  but  never  will  God's,  however 
now  neglected."  The  sublimity  of  that  faith, 
that  vision  which  could  discern  "  a  future,  begin- 
ning from  that  piazza,"  is  something  unap- 
proached    in    any    other    transcription    of    the 

159 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

execution  of  Savonarola,  whose  dream  had  been 
to  make  all  art  and  all  learning  absolutely  conse- 
crated to  the  glory  of  the  divine  life,  and  who 
saw,  in  the  life  beyond,  the  life  which  was  to 
open  to  him  through  the  flames  and  the  torture, 
the  opportunity  to  achieve  that  in  which  he  had 
failed  while  on  earth. 

"  No  work  begun  shall  ever  pause  for  death." 

To  all  the  glories  of  art  and  music  Savonarola 
was  infinitely  susceptible.  On  him  as  Professor 
Pasquale  Villari  has  said,  "  Florentine  art  acted 
like  sacred  music,  and  bore  witness  to  the  omnipo- 
tence of  genius  inspired  by  faith.  The  paintings 
of  Fra  Angelico  seemed  to  have  brought  down 
angels  from  heaven  to  dwell  in  the  cloisters  of 
San  Marco,  and  he  felt  as  if  his  soul  had  been 
transported  to  the  world  of  the  blessed." 

No  one  can  wander  to-day  through  the  con- 
secrated convent  of  San  Marco  untouched  by 
the  great  spirit  of  the  man  whose  personal  pres- 
ence pervades  the  very  air.  The  cells,  forever 
glorified  with  the  ineffable  beauty  of  Fra  An- 
gelico ;  the  chapel,  wherein  are  entombed  Beni- 
vieni,  Poliziano,  and  Pico  della  Mirandola,  of  the 
Platonic  Academy ;   the  convent  garden  where 

160 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

Lorenzo  de'  Medici  was  accustomed  to  walk  — 
all  are  eloquent  of  Savonarola. 

Of  one  occasion  this  anecdote  is  preserved. 
"  A  monk  in  the  interest  of  Lorenzo  went  to 
Savonarola  with  the  message  that  Lorenzo  il 
Magnifico  was  walking  in  the  garden.  *  Did  he 
ask  for  me  ?  '  asked  Savonarola,  '  No,  Father,' 
replied  the  priest.  *  Let  him  then  pursue  his 
devotions  undisturbed,'  tranquilly  replied  Savon- 
arola." It  is,  however,  in  the  library  of  San 
Marco  that  one  comes  peculiarly  near  the  personal 
presence  of  Savonarola.  Here  is  the  little  niche 
in  the  wall  with  a  slightly  raised  dais  where  he 
stood  when  preaching  to  his  brethren,  and  the 
room  wherein  was  enacted  the  last  remarkable 
scene  of  his  life  in  the  convent,  thus  described 
by  Professor  Villari ;  — 

"  In  the  middle  of  this  hall,  under  the  simple 
vaults  of  Michelozzi,  Savonarola  placed  the 
sacrament,  collecting  his  brethren  around  him, 
and  addressed  them  in  his  last  and  memorable 
words  :  *  My  sons,  in  the  presence  of  God,  stand- 
ing before  the  sacred  Host,  and  w4th  my  enemies 
already  in  the  convent,  I  now  confirm  my  doc- 
trine. What  I  have  said  came  to  me  from  God, 
11  i6i 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

and  He  is  my  Avitness  in  heaven  that  what  I  say 
is  true.  I  little  thought  that  the  whole  city 
would  so  soon  have  turned  against  me ;  but 
God's  will  be  done.  My  last  admonition  to  you 
is  this :  Let  your  arms  be  faith,  patience,  and 
prayer.  I  leave  you  with  anguish  and  pain,  to 
pass  into  the  hands  of  my  enemies.  I  know  not 
whether  they  will  take  my  life  ;  but  of  this  I  am 
certain,  that,  dead,  I  shall  be  able  to  do  far  more 
for  you  in  heaven  than,  living,  I  have  ever  had 
power  to  do  for  you  oi*  earth.'  " 

Of  all  places  in  Florence  it  is  perhaps  in  San 
Marco  that  the  visitor  lingers  longest  and  to 
which  he  turns  most  often.  The  library  still 
echoes  with  the  words  of  Savonarola  to  the  Frati 
on  that  night  of  Palm  Sunday,  1498,  when  he 
received  in  writing  the  promise  of  the  signoria 
that  he,  with  his  companions,  should  be  safely 
returned.  With  his  friars  he  sought  the  library, 
where  he  preached  eloquently  in  Latin,  exhort- 
ing them  all  to  follow  God  with  patience,  faith, 
and  prayer.  He  was  ready,  he  told  them,  to  re- 
ceive all  tribulation  with  joy  for  the  love  of  the 
Lord,  knowing  that  in  doing  good  and  suffering 
evil  consisted  the  Christian  life.     He  concluded 

162 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

his  sermon,  and  on  leaving  the  hbrary  said  to  his 
brethren  : 

*'  I  will  say  to  you  what  Jeremiah  said  :  '  This 
thing  I  expected,  but  not  so  soon  nor  so 
suddenly.' " 

Another  chronicler  of  the  scene  says  :  — 

"  He  exhorted  them  further  to  live  well  and 
to  be  fervent  in  prayer.  And  having  confessed 
to  the  Father  Fra  Domenico  da  Pescia,  he  took 
the  communion  in  the  first  library.  And  the 
same  did  Fra  Domenico.  After  eating  a  little, 
he  was  somewhat  refreshed  ;  and  he  spoke  the 
last  words  to  his  friars,  exhorting  them  to  per- 
severe in  religion,  and  kissing  them  all  he  took 
his  last  departure  from  them.  In  the  parting, 
one  of  his  children  said  to  him :  '  Father,  why 
dost  thou  abandon  us  and  leave  us  so  desolate  ? ' 
To  which  he  replied  :  '  Son,  have  patience  ;  God 
will  help  you  ; '  and  he  added  that  he  would  either 
see  them  again  alive  or  that  after  death  he  would 
appear  to  them  without  fail.  Also,  as  he  departed, 
he  gave  up  the  common  keys  to  the  brethren, 
with  so  great  humility  and  charity,  that  the  friars 
could  not  keep  themselves  from  tears,  and  many 
of  them  wished  by  all  means  to  go  with  him. 
At  last  recommending  himself  to  their  prayers, 

163 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

he  made  his  way  towards  the  door  of  the  library, 
where  the  first  commissioners,  all  armed,  were 
awaiting  him  ;  to  whom,  giving  himself  into  their 
hands  like  a  most  meek  lamb,  he  said  :  *  I  recom- 
mend to  you  this  my  flock  and  all  these  other  citi- 
zens.' And  when  he  was  in  the  corridor  of  the 
library  he  said  : '  My  friars,  doubt  not,  for  God  will 
not  fail  to  perfect  His  work ;  and  although  I  be  put 
to  death,  I  shall  help  you  more  than  I  have  done 
in  life,  and  I  will  return  without  fail  to  console  you, 
either  dead  or  alive.'  Arrived  at  the  holy  water, 
which  is  at  the  exit  of  the  choir,  Fra  Domenico 
said  to  him  :  *  Fain  would  I  too  come  to  these 
nuptials.'  Certain  of  the  laymen,  his  friends, 
were  arrested  at  the  command  of  the  Signoria. 
When  the  Father  Fra  Girolamo  was  in  the  first 
cloister,  Fra  Benedetto,  the  miniaturist,  strove 
ardently  to  go  with  him  ;  and  when  the  officers 
thrust  him  back  he  still  insisted  that  he  would 
go.  But  the  Father  Fra  Girolamo  turned  to  him 
and  said :  *  Fra  Benedetto,  on  your  obedience 
come  not,  for  I  and  Fra  Domenico  have  to  die 
for  the  love  of  Christ.'  And  thus  he  was  torn 
away  from  the  eyes  of  his  children." 

In  San  Marco  there  are  several  works  by  Fra 
Bartolommeo,  one  being  of  the  Madonna  which 

1 64 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

is  very  beautiful.  This  painter  had  been  deeply 
impressed  by  the  sermons  of  Savonarola  and  had 
felt  that  he  was  called  to  the  religious  life  as  a 
vocation.  For  some  time  he  lived  in  monastic 
retreat  at  Prato,  and  finally,  being  removed  to 
San  Marco,  he  again  turned  to  his  art,  resolving 
to  use  it  only  for  devotional  subjects.  A  portrait 
of  Savonarola  which  he  painted  is  a  wonderful 
interpretation  of  the  very  spirit  of  the  great 
martyr. 

In  the  two  cells  that  were  occupied  by  Sa- 
vonarola one  feels  very  close  to  that  life  that  was 
lived  there  four  hundred  years  ago.  His  desk, 
his  chair,  his  rosary,  and  a  copy  of  his  sermons ; 
a  most  interesting  old  picture  which  belonged 
to  the  Buondelmonti  family  showing  the  tragic 
scene  of  the  execution  of  Savonarola  on  jMay 
28,  1498,  all  absorb  the  visitor.  It  was  his  per- 
sonal devotion  to  St.  Thomas  Aquiiias  that  led 
Savonarola  to  choose  the  Dominican  order  of 
monks,  and  it  was  only  eight  years  before  his 
death  that  he  had  been  chosen  Prior  of  San 
Marco.  The  church  in  the  monastery  could  not 
begin  to  hold  the  crowds  that  thronged  to  listen 
to  him,  and  he  obtained  leave  to  preach  in  the 
Duomo.     "  In  order  to  participate  in  the  benefits 

165 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

of  the  spiritual  food  he  dispensed,"  says  a  writer, 
"the  inhabitants  of  the  town  and  neighboring 
villages  deserted  their  abodes,  and  the  rude 
mountaineers  descended  from  the  Apennines 
and  directed  their  steps  towards  Florence,  where 
crowds  of  pilgrims  flocked  every  morning  at 
break  of  day,  when  the  gates  were  opened,  and 
became  the  objects  of  a  charity  truly  fraternal, 
the  citizens  vying  with  one  another  in  the  exer- 
cise of  the  duties  of  Christian  hospitality,  em- 
bracing them  in  the  streets  as  brothers,  even 
before  they  were  acquainted  with  their  names, 
while  some  of  the  more  pious  received  them  by 
forty  at  a  time  into  their  houses." 

There  were  rich  and  beautiful  mornings  passed 
by  one  and  another  of  this  group  of  choice  spirits 
in  the  Uffizi  or  the  Pitti  galleries.  The  Palazzo 
Pitti  always  suggests  to  the  thoughtful  visitor 
the  curious  workings  of  destiny.  When  Luca 
Pitti  gave  to  Brunelleschi  the  order  to  design 
him  a  palace  so  vast  that  "the  doors  of  the 
Palazzo  Medici  should  serve  as  models  for  the 
windows  "  he  little  dreamed  that  his  hated  rivals 
would  come  into  possession  of  the  magnificent 
architectural  creation  which  was  built  to  crush 
their  pride    and    outdo    their    splendor.      Luca 

166 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

Pitti  had  served  Florence  as  Prior,  Gonfalonier, 
and  as  Ambassador  to  Rome  ;  he  was  the  rival 
of  the  Medici  and  the  Strozzi,  whose  ambitions 
he  planned  to  undermine  ;  but  his  projects  ended, 
instead,  in  his  own  defeat  and  ruin.  Tlie 
treachery  he  planned  against  the  Medici  re- 
turned against  himself,  and  although  warned  by 
Niccolo  Soderini,  he  was  unable  to  avert  the 
consequences  of  his  plot  against  the  Medicean 
dynasty.  It  was  in  1440  that  Brunelleschi  re- 
ceived this  commission,  which  he  only  lived  to 
carry  out  to  the  second  story,  leaving  the  com- 
pletion of  the  palace  to  other  hands.  In  1549  it 
was  purchased  by  the  Duchessa  Eleonora  di 
Toledo,  the  wife  of  Cosimo  I,  and  in  the  spring 
of  the  following  year  they  took  possession  of  it, 
and  thus  the  palace  passed  into  the  possession  of 
the  Medici.  Some  idea  of  the  immensity  of  the 
Pitti  Palace  can  be  gained  from  its  proportions, 
each  window  being  twenty-four  feet  wide  and 
each  of  the  three  stories  forty  feet  in  height.  It 
is  an  impressive  rather  than  beautiful  palace, 
looking  more  like  a  vast  fortress.  George  Eliot 
said  that  this  palace  was  a  wonderful  union  of 
Cyclopean  grandeur  and  massive  regularity. 
The  Court  of  the  palace  has  statues  and  a  foun- 
167 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

tain,  and  from  this  one  passes  into  the  Silver 
Chamber  (camera  degh  Argenti)  in  which  the 
royal  plate  is  kept  which  includes  a  service  of 
lapis-lazuli,  and  work  by  Benvenuto  Cellini  and 
Pollajuolo. 

The  private  apartments  of  the  king  comprise 
a  study,  in  which  are  two  beautiful  cabinets  in 
mosaic  and  bronze  which  belonged  to  the  Medici, 
a  sleeping-room,  with  canopied  bed,  and  a  toilet 
chamber  with  innumerable  mirrors.  The  Queen's 
private  apartments  have  a  boudoir,  whose  walls 
are  covered  with  pale  rose  satin,  embroidered, 
and  the  chairs  and  sofa  upholstered  in  the  same. 
Here,  too,  is  one  of  those  exquisite  cabinets  in 
which  Cosimo  and  his  Eleonora  seem  to  have  so 
lavishly  indulged.  In  the  sleeping-room  the  bed 
is  canopied  in  dark  green  brocade,  and  at  the 
head  is  a  prie  dieu  with  a  font  holding  holy 
water,  over  which  hangs  a  crucifix.  There  is  a 
writing-table  of  rare  beauty,  and  in  the  sala  di 
toilette,  opening  from  this  room,  are  wonderful 
triplicate  mirrors,  magnificent  wardrobes,  and  a 
dressing-table  furnished  with  articles  in  gold  and 
pearl.  The  royal  apartments  contain  a  few  pic- 
tures of  note,  —  a  "  Madonna  of  the  Roses  "  by 
Botticelli,  and  also  a  Madonna  by  Carlo  Dolci. 

168 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

The  great  canvas  of  "  Pallas  and  the  Centaur" 
by  Botticelli  (often  referred  to  as  "  An  Allegory  ") 
is  placed  in  these  apartments,  and  it  is  considered 
one  of  the  most  interesting  of  his  works.  The 
figure  of  Pallas  is  instinct  with  vitality ;  and  the 
ethereal  draperies,  fluttering  as  she  glides  forward 
clutching  the  hair  of  the  Centaur,  suggest  the  very 
poetry  of  motion.  The  intense  blue  of  the  sky 
and  the  glimpse  of  shore  in  the  background  con- 
tribute to  the  exquisite  pictorial  effect. 

The  pictures  in  the  Pitti  gallery  number  some 
five  hundred  only,  but  in  quality  they  form  the 
richest  and  most  important  gallery  in  the  world. 
These  works  are  almost  exclusively  great  master- 
pieces. The  gallery  comprises  sixteen  rooms, 
known  as  the  Sala  dell'  Iliade,  the  Sala  di  Giove, 
and  the  Salas  of  Apollo,  Venus,  JNIars,  Ulysses, 
Prometheus,  and  others,  not  to  forget  the  Sala 
della  Stufa  (Salon  of  the  Stove),  for  a  stove  in 
Italy  is  fairly  entitled  to  rank  as  an  important 
and  interesting  curio,  if  not  as  a  treasure  of  art ! 
Here  one  wanders  on  and  finds  the  wonderful 
"  Vision  of  Ezekiel,"  in  which  the  prophet,  gazing 
into  the  heavens,  sees  the  Heavenly  Father  in  all 
the  glory  of  splendor,  leaning  from  the  clouds 
with   angels   and   seraphs ;    Fra   Baitolommeo's 

169 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

*'  Ecce  Homo  ; "  the  Madonna  of  Filippo  Lippo  ; 
Raphael's  "  La  Donna  Velata ;  "  the  "  Warrior  " 
of  Salvator  Rosa,  and  two  of  his  enchanting 
landscapes ;  Perugino's  "  Adoration,"  with  its 
infinite  sweetness  ;  and  the  "  Assumption "  of 
Andrea  del  Sarto. 

Guido  Reni's  "Cleopatra"  is  a  vivid,  brilliant 
work,  showing  the  Egyptian  queen  in  the  splen- 
dor of  her  beauty  —  the  bust  uncovered  and  the 
asp  at  her  breast.  The  expression  of  the  face  is 
a  study.  One  of  the  greatest  works  here  is  Gi- 
orgione's  "  Concert,"  in  which  the  very  genius  of 
music  is  painted.  The  monk  has  his  hands  on 
the  clavichord  ;  his  head  is  turned  away,  and  one 
feels  that  he  is  hearing  harmonies  not  of  this 
world.  The  very  genius  of  music  shines  from 
the  beautiful,  impassioned  face.  Here,  too,  one 
finds  the  famous  "  Marriage  of  St.  Catherine,"  by 
Titian,  Andrea  del  Sarto's  "  Dispute  About  the 
Trinity,"  Raphael's  "  Madonna  della  Seggiola," 
in  which  the  Mother  sits  in  a  low  chair  holding 
the  Child,  while  St.  John  folds  his  tiny  hands  in 
prayer ;  the  coloring  is  exceptionally  pure  and 
strong ;  Salvator  Rosa's  *'  Conspiracy  of  Cati- 
hne,"  Raphael's  "Holy  Family,"  Murillo's 
Madonna,  Raphael's  portrait  of  Julius  II,  Per- 

170 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

ugino's  *'  Magdalen,"  Albert  Diirer's  **  Adam 
and  Eve,"  —  two  life-sized  portraits,  Ev^e  repre- 
sented as  with  golden  hair,  —  and  Da  Vinci's  por- 
trait of  Ginevra.  These  are  but  a  few  of  the 
rich  works  that  leave  their  very  impress  upon 
life.  The  well-known  picture  of  "  The  Three 
Fates,"  usually  attributed  to  Michael  Angelo,  is 
a  very  striking  work.  Connoisseurs  differ  in  their 
opinions  as  to  the  artist,  some  good  authorities 
inclininor  to  believe  it  the  work  of  Fiorentino. 
The  "  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,"^by  Andrea  del 
Sarto,  is  one  of  the  noblest  works  in  the  entire 
world  of  art.  In  the  luminous  atmosphere  the 
Virgin  is  seen,  seated  on  the  clouds,  gazing  up- 
ward with  a  celestial  expression.  Of  Andrea 
del  Sarto's  works  Swinburne  has  written :  "  At 
Florence  only  can  one  trace  and  tell  how  great 
a  painter,  and  how  various,  Andrea  was.  There, 
only,  but  surely  there,  can  the  spirit  and  presence 
of  the  things  of  time  on  his  immortal  spirit  be 
understood."  The  "  Annunciation  "  by  this  artist, 
which  is  in  the  Pitti,  is  one  of  the  most  poetic 
conceptions  given  by  any  artist  of  that  sublime 
event.  Mary  is  represented  as  having  just  risen 
from  prayer  when  the  angel  appears  bowing  on 
one  knee,  and  the  instantaneous  and  sublime  im- 

171 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

pression  made  upon  the  Virgin  is  felt  in  every 
line  and  gesture.  The  "  Holy  Family  "  and  the 
figure  of  St.  John  as  a  boy,  by  Andrea  del  Sarto, 
are  in  these  galleries,  with  other  works  of  this 
artist.  No  more  beautiful  example  of  coloring 
combined  with  wonderful  expressiveness  of  the 
figures  can  be  found  in  any  work  of  Titian's  than 
in  his  *'  Marriage  of  St.  Catherine,"  and  the  light 
on  the  picture  recalls  to  the  gazer  Longfellow's 
lines  regarding  this  artist :  — 

"  You  have  caught 
These  golden  hues  from  your  Venetian  sunsets. 

The  uttermost  that  can  be  reached  by  color 
Is  here  accomplished." 

Titian's  "  La  Bella "  represents  a  young  and 
beautiful  woman  with  a  delicate,  proud  patrician 
face  ;  the  luxuriant  hair  coiled  in  braids  ;  the 
three-fourths-length  figure  is  portrayed  standing, 
costumed  in  rich  brocade,  decollete,  with  long 
puffed  sleeves.  It  is  without  doubt  a  portrait  of 
the  Duchessa  Eleonora,  the  wife  of  Cosimo  I,  as 
the  face  is  the  same  as  that  of  her  authorized 
portrait  by  Titian  which  is  in  the  Uffizi.  The 
belief  that  the  Duchessa  is  the  original  of  this 
picture    has    been    questioned,    but   it    is    now 

172 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

generally  accepted  on  the  evidence  of  the 
portrait. 

Raphael  can  be  studied  to  great  advantage  in 
the  Pitti,  although  the  devotee  of  his  art  will  find 
an  earthly  paradise  in  the  Raphael  stanza  in  the 
Vatican.  In  the  Pitti  is  not  only  the  "  Madonna 
della  Seggiola"  already  mentioned,  but  the  "  Ma- 
donna della  Granduca,"  showing  the  halo  around 
the  heads  of  the  Mother  and  the  Holy  Child,  —  a 
picture  of  the  utmost  reverence  and  stately  sim- 
plicity ;  and  beside  these  is  the  "  Madonna  del 
Baldacchino,"  revealing  the  Virgin  and  the  Child 
seated  under  a  canopy  with  angels  near.  These 
Madonnas,  with  their  celestial  loveliness  and 
human  tenderness  and  charm,  recall  to  one  anew 
the  words  of  John  Addington  Symonds  when  he 
says  :  "  What  distinguishes  the  whole  work  of 
Raphael  is  its  humanity  in  the  double  sense  of 
the  humane  and  the  human.  .  .  .  Even  sadness, 
tragedy,  and  death  take  loveliness  with  him." 

One  of  the  most  fascinating  of  Raphael's  works 
is  *'  La  Donna  Velata,"  a  portrait  which  has 
nothing  in  common  with  his  Madonnas,  but  is 
full  of  fine  detail  and  subtle  feeling.  The  "  San 
Marco  "  of  Fra  Bartolommeo  is  a  work  of  great 
force ;  the  portrait  of  "  Rubens  "  by  himself,  and 

173 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

his  landscape,  "  Ulysses  on  the  Islands  of  the 
Phojnieians,"  are  most  interesting.  Salvator 
Rosa's  "  Harbor  at  Sunset "  is  a  picture  with  such 
a  glory  of  coloring  that  no  words  can  convey  any 
adequate  idea  of  its  beauty.  One  work  by  Carlo 
Dolci,  "  St.  Andrew  Praying  before  his  Execu- 
tion," must  have  a  word  of  itself.  The  sweetness 
and  beauty  of  the  expression  in  the  face  makes  this 
work  almost  greater  than  his  famous  Madonna. 
One  fascinating  composition  (attributed  to  Boni- 
fazio  Veronese)  is  "  The  Sybil  Explaining  to 
Augustus  the  Mystery  of  the  Incarnation." 

All  these  halls  of  the  Pitti  gallery  are  beauti- 
ful in  themselves,  in  the  rich  decorations  of  the 
ceiling,  the  inlaid  floors,  and  the  sumptuous  tables 
of  mosaic  and  bronze  and  colored  marbles,  and 
the  magnificent  vases  with  which  they  are  deco- 
rated. 

The  views  from  the  windows  of  the  Palazzo 
Pitti  are  superb.  On  one  side  are  seen  the  heights 
of  Bellosguardo,  crowned  with  white  stone  villas, 
and  the  mediaeval  tower ;  another  looks  towards 
Fiesole,  and  the  view  to  the  east  over  the  city  is 
one  of  the  most  striking  in  all  Europe,  taking 
in  the  Duomo,  the  strange  mediaeval  tower  of 
Ci\dta  Vecchio,  the  dome  of  San  Spirito,  and  the 

174 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

bell  tower  of  San  Lorenzo,  which  contains  the 
bell  given  by  Anna  Maria  de'  Medici,  the  sister 
of  the  last  Grand  Duke  of  this  historic  family, 
and  which  was  erected  as  late  as  1740. 

The  Uffizi  gallery  is  notable  for  its  long  corri- 
dors of  sculpture,  for  many  fine  works,  and  for 
the  special  representations  of  different  schools, 
the  French,  Flemish,  Venetian,  Italian,  and 
Dutch,  and  for  the  gallery  of  the  portraits  of  liv^- 
ing  artists  painted  by  themselves,  which,  begin- 
ning with  Michael  Angelo,  Da  Vinci,  Raphael, 
and  others  of  their  time,  extends  to  contemporary 
artists,  as  Sir  John  Millais,  Alma  Tadema,  Puvis 
de  Chavannes,  Bonnat,  Henner,  and  George  Fred- 
erick Watts. 

The  Church  of  San  Lorenzo  had  a  peculiar  at- 
traction for  the  group  of  friends  w^ho  loved  to 
wander  about  Florence.  "  The  general  effect  is 
very  sombre,"  Hawthorne  records,  "  and  the 
shrines,  the  monuments,  and  the  statues  look 
dingy  with  time  and  neglect."  The  interior  is, 
indeed,  dark  and  forbidding,  but  the  very  gloom 
has  its  fascination. 

One's  first  impression  is  a  sense  of  vacant  space, 
and  in  imagination  one  hears,  even  across  the  gulf 
of  five  hundred  years,  the  impassioned  eloquence 

175 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

of  Savonarola,  who,  from  this  very  pulpit  that 
we  now  see,  fearlessly  launched  his  denuncia- 
tions at  the  Medici  family,  the  immediate  patrons 
of  the  church  itself  Just  before  May  9,  1498, 
when  he  was  put  to  death  in  the  Piazza  Signoria, 
he  preached  one  of  his  most  thrilling  sermons  in 
San  Lorenzo,  whose  accents  almost  seem  to  echo 
there  to-day.  The  vast  space  is  in  the  form  of  a 
Latin  cross.  Corinthian  columns  divide  the  nave 
from  the  aisles.  There  is  a  beautiful  singing  gal- 
lery, inlaid  with  white  and  colored  marbles  and 
crystal.  There  are  sculptures  and  paintings  rep- 
resenting Donatello,  Dupr^,  Rossellini,  Verroc- 
chio,  Perugino,  and  here  in  the  Medici  chapel  is 
the  great  masterpiece  of  Filippo  Lippi,  an  An- 
nunciation. Very  recently  —  indeed,  in  1896  — 
a  monument  to  Donatello,  the  work  of  RafFaello 
Romanelli,  was  placed  in  this  chapel.  In  con- 
nection with  this  church  of  San  Lorenzo  is 
the  Lorentian  library,  which  was  initiated  by 
Cosimo.il  Vecchio,  the  son  of  Giovanni  di  Bicci, 
the  rich  and  powerful  noble  to  whom  Florence 
owes  so  much.  It  is  a  curious  fact,  that, 
although  the  populace  grumbled  regarding  the 
tyranny  of  the  Medici  family,  they  yet  became 
so  accustomed  to  the  yoke  as  to  miss  it  when  it 

176 


IDYLLIC    HOURS 

fell  off,  and  to  demand  its  return.  In  the  fifteenth 
century  Cosimo  and  his  brother  Lorenzo  (II 
JNIagnifico)  were  exiled  to  Padua,  but  the  people 
became  discontented  and  tumultuous,  and  the 
Medici  were  recalled,  to  return  with  triumphs 
and  rejoicings,  and,  indeed,  the  period  of  their 
greatest  power  came  after  this.  There  were  two 
Cosimos  in  the  ISIedici  family  —  the  elder  called 
"  II  Vecchio,"  to  distinguish  him  from  the  Grand 
Duke  of  the  same  name.  Cosimo  il  Vecchio 
died  in  14G9,  and  his  son  Piero  succeeded.  As 
before  noted,  it  was  he  who  married  JNIona 
Lucrezia  Tornabuoni. 

He  became  the  head  of  the  republic  when  but 
fifteen  years  of  age  and  his  reign  was  a  remark- 
able one.  His  was  a  great  nature,  enthusiastic, 
liberal,  and  generous.  He  was  the  patron  of 
arts  and  science,  and  the  restorer  and  promoter 
of  Florentine  magnificence.  Under  his  leader- 
ship Florence  acquired  that  prestige  which  she 
has  never  entirely  lost  as  the  artistic  and  intel- 
lectual metropolis  of  Italy.  It  may  not  be  gen- 
erally remembered  that  Pope  Clement  VII  was 
a  Medici.  Lorenzo  il  Magnifico  had  a  brother, 
Giuliano,  who  was  murdered  by  Bernardo  Ban- 
dini,  of  the  conspiracy  of  the  Pazzi.  He  had 
12  177 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

never  mamed,  but  he  left  a  son.  The  JMagnifi- 
cent  recognized  this  nameless  nephew,  educated 
him,  and  he  became  a  cardinal  under  Leo  X, 
and  afterward  the  Pope  known  as  Clement  VI I. 
The  reign  of  Lorenzo  was  no  less  glorious  in 
defeat  than  in  triumph.  Pope  Sixtus  IV  and 
Ferdinand,  King  of  Naples,  hated  the  Medici, 
and  brought  war  against  Florence.  Disaster 
followed  disaster,  and  Lorenzo  voluntarily  went 
to  Naples  to  put  himself  in  the  hands  of  Ferdi- 
nand. But  the  King  of  Naples,  too,  was  not 
without  his  magnanimity,  and  the  personal  meet- 
ing of  the  two  men  was  the  initiation  of  a  warm 
friendship  between  them,  and  there  ensued  a 
peace  that  gave  many  glorious  years  to  Florence. 
Lorenzo  the  Magnificent  died  in  Carreggi  in 
1492,  the  same  year  in  which  America  was  dis- 
covered. He  had  married  Clarice  Orsini,  and  of 
this  marriage  there  were  seven  children,  of 
whom  one  of  the  daughters,  Maria,  was  the 
love  of  Michael  Angelo.  The  eldest  son,  Pietro, 
succeeded  to  the  government  of  Florence,  but 
he  lacked  his  father's  noble  qualities.  He  was 
arrogant  and  selfish,  and  wished  to  reign  inde- 
pendent of  the  Signoria,  who  are  the  Parliament 
of  Florence.     Pietro  placed  Pisa   and   Leghorn 

178 


IDYLLIC    HOURS 

in  the  hands  of  Charles  VIII,  of  France,  and 
this  so  incensed  the  Florentines,  who  were  urged 
on  also  by  the  fiery  eloquence  of  Savonarola, 
that  they  banished  the  Medici  from  Florence 
again,  robbed  their  houses,  and  captured  all 
the  rich  treasures  that  had  been  collected  by 
Lorenzo  il  INIagnifico.  He  died  in  exile  in 
1504,  and  left  a  son,  named  Lorenzo,  and  a 
daughter,  Clarice,  who  married  Filippo  Strozzi : 
whose  name  is  now  given  to  the  new  viale  skirt- 
ing a  park  in  the  more  modern  part  of  the  city. 

Florence  in  her  own  way  is  as  distinctive  as 
Rome.  The  contrast  is  great.  The  archaeological 
interest  is  in  Rome,  but  in  the  purely  artistic 
Florence  is  far  the  richer,  and  especially  in 
sculpture.  Any  hour  in  the  day  one  may  stroll 
into  church  or  gallery  and  see  masterpieces 
that  hold  their  owti  through  all  the  ages,  ^o 
city  has  a  more  vividly  defined  centre  and  point 
of  departure  for  sight-seeing  than  has  Florence 
m  the  Duomo.  The  marvellous  monument  of 
the  ffenius  of  Brunelleschi  dominates  the  entire 
city.  From  it  everything  else  is  relative.  Like 
Rome  and  Paris,  Florence  is  divided  by  her 
river,  —  the  turbid,  muddy  Arno  ;  and  while  the 
principal  centre  of  business  is  on  one  side,  the 

179 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

two  are  almost  equal  in  point  of  historic  and 
social  importance.  The  square  around  the 
Duomo,  called  the  Piazza  del  Duomo,  is  the 
centre  of  various  streets,  one  of  which  leads  di- 
rectly to  the  Piazza  della  Signoria,  on  which  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio  and  the  Loggia  de'  Lanza,  filled 
with  great  groups  of  sculpture,  are  located. 

From  this  piazza  are  the  entrances  to  the  grand 
council  chamber  of  the  Vecchio,  where  stands 
the  colossal  statue  of  Savonarola,  and  from  which 
open  the  rooms  of  the  Medici  family,  filled  with 
their  treasures.  Here,  too,  is  the  entrance  to 
the  Uffizi  gallery,  and  a  little  street  near  runs 
down  to  Santa  Croce,  in  which  are  the  tombs  of 
Michael  Angelo,  Alfieri,  a  monument  to  Dante, 
and  other  wonderful  groups.  Just  beyond  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio  lies  the  famous  Ponte  Vecchio, 
over  the  Arno,  —  the  bridge  lined  with  the  shops 
of  jewellers  and  vendors  of  bric-a-brac.  Along 
the  bank  of  the  river  is  the  well-known  drive  and 
promenade  called  the  Lung'  Arno,  with  shops 
and  hotels  facing  the  river,  and  the  spires  and 
towers  of  the  city  on  the  opposite  side ;  and  the 
background  of  hills  crowned  with  villas  offers 
one  of  the  most  picturesque  views  in  the  world. 
The  dome  of  San  Spirito  is  defined   against  a 

180 


>  Wii.NAlioLA. 
From  the  SUiliie.hy  Pazzi  in  the  Pala::o  \'ecchio. 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

fTolden  background  in  the  late  afternoon,  and 
following  this  promenade  one  comes  to  the 
Cascine,  which  is  to  Florence  what  the  Pincian 
hill  is  to  Rome.  Florence  is  so  rich  in  art  that 
one  knows  not  where  to  begin  in  speaking  of  its 
treasures.  One  of  the  most  interesting  churches 
is  that  of  Sante  Croce,  and  it  is  one  of  the  first 
to  which  the  tourist  turns  his  steps.  It  dates 
from  the  year  1297,  and  was  commenced  by  the 
monks  of  St.  Francis,  who  were  under  the  special 
protection  of  Pope  Gregory  IX.  Giotto  became 
master  of  the  work  in  1334,  but  the  facade  is 
modern,  and  was  completed  as  late  as  1863. 
Over  the  gi-and  entrance  is  a  bas-relief  repre- 
senting the  Elevation  of  the  Cross,  by  Giovanni 
Dupre,  of  Siena,  who  is  also  the  sculptor  of  a 
fine  statue  of  the  ISIadonna  Addolorata.  There 
is  an  hour  in  this  church  in  the  late  afternoon, 
when  the  sunset  lights  touch  paintings  and  sculp- 
tures with  the  gleams  of  gold,  that  is  one  to 
be  remembered. 

Sante  Croce  is  the  Florentine  Pantheon.  It 
was  here  that  tlie  most  impressive  and  magnetic 
preacher  of  his  day,  Fra  Francesco  da  Monte- 
pulciana,  held  his  audiences  under  a  spell  half 
of  terror,  half  of  love,  and  where  in  response  to 

181 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

liis  vivid  painting  of  the  hoiTors  that  followed 
those  who  did  not  repent,  they  all  cried  out : 
"  Misericordia."  A  larger  number  of  the  ancient 
Florentine  families  are  entombed  here  than  in 
any  other  one  church.  The  inscriptions  form 
almost  a  history  of  Florence,  for  there  is  hardly 
an  important  family  whose  name  is  not  found 
here.  The  church  is  lined  with  monuments  to 
the  greatest  Italians.  Here  is  Donatello's  statue 
of  St.  Louis,  Bishop  of  Toulouse.  San  Bernar- 
dino of  Siena  has  a  tablet  here.  Vasari's  monu- 
ment to  JMichael  Angelo  is  a  grand  conception. 
As  will  be  remembered,  Michael  Angelo  died  in 
Rome  (in  1565)  at  the  age  of  ninety,  and  Cosimo 
I  had  the  body  secretly  brought  to  Florence. 
The  funeral  ceremonies  took  place  in  the  church 
of  San  Lorenzo,  and  the  oration  was  pronounced 
by  Benedetto  Varchi,  the  historian  and  poet.  It  is 
said  that  every  artist  in  Florence  contributed  to 
the  decoration  of  the  church  on  this  occasion,  and 
a  high  mass  in  solemn  music  was  rendered  before 
the  body  was  entombed  in  Santa  Croce.  Al- 
though the  ashes  of  Dante  rest  in  Ravenna,  the 
monument  to  him  by  Ricci,  placed  in  the  piazza 
of  Santa  Croce,  is  one  of  the  important  modern 
works  in  Florence. 

182 


IDYLLIC    HOURS 

A  bronze  tablet  in  Santa  Croce  commemo- 
rates Garibaldi,  and  another  is  placed  to  tlie 
memory  of  the  great  patriot  Mazzini.  The 
Duchess  of  Albany  placed  in  this  church  the 
monumental  tomb  of  Alfieri,  and  an  imposing 
monument  is  that  erected  to  the  memory  of 
Machiavelli. 

In  no  city  has  history  and  art  been  more 
closely  interwoven  than  in  Florence.  In  fact, 
Florentine  art  is  simply  consecrated  by  the  sacri- 
fice, the  nobility,  the  loftiness  of  purpose  out  of 
which  it  springs,  and  the  glory  of  its  heroic  age 
still  lingers.  We  have  all  been  more  or  less  ac- 
customed to  hearing  of  the  crimes  and  iniquities 
of  the  Medici ;  but  the  record  of  this  family  of 
Florentine  nobles  comprises  some  of  the  most 
generous  and  uplifting  passages  in  history. 

One  of  the  most  charming  drives  around 
Florence  is  to  the  Certosa  —  the  old  convent 
that  crowns  the  summit  of  a  hill  whose  slopes 
are  all  in  a  glimmer  of  silver-green  oHve  trees, 
interspersed  with  the  .tall,  dark  c}^resses.  The 
Certosa  dates  back  to  1341,  when  Niccolo  Accia- 
juolo  induced  the  republic  to  grant  its  fortifica- 
tions. There  are  now  only  a  few  monks  in 
residence,  and  their  occupation  is  less   that  of 

183 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

devotion  than  of  the  manufacture  of  chartreuse 
which  they  sell  to  the  visitors.  The  cloister  is 
very  attractive  with  its  Luca  della  Robbias,  and 
the  church  is  rich  in  frescoes  and  marbles.  The 
high  altar  is  over  a  crypt,  in  which  are  the  tombs 
of  the  founder  of  his  family.  Perkins,  in  his 
"  Tuscan  Sculptors,"  says :  — 

"  Whether  Andrea  Orcagna  built  the  Certosa 
near  Florence  is  uncertain ;  but  the  monuments 
of  its  founder,  Niccolo  Acciajuolo,  and  his  family, 
which  exist  in  the  subterranean  church,  belong 
to  his  time,  and  were  perhaps  executed  by  some 
of  his  scholars.  The  tomb  of  Niccolo  (Grand 
Seneschal  of  the  kingdom  of  Naples  under  Queen 
Joanna  I,  ob.  1366)  consists  of  his  recumbent 
statue,  clad  in  armor  placed  high  against  the  wall, 
beneath  a  rich  gothic  canopy.  His  son,  Lorenzo, 
upon  whose  funeral  obsequies  he  spent  more  than 
fifty  thousand  gold  florins,  lies  below  under  a 
marble  slab,  upon  which  is  sculptured  the  effigy 
of  this  youth  of  a  most  lovely  countenance, 
cavalier  and  great  baron,  tried  in  arms,  and  emi- 
nent for  his  graceful  manners  and  his  gracious 
and  noble  aspect.  Next  him  lie  his  grandfather 
and   his   sister   Lapa.      The  general    design   of 

184 


IDYLLIC    HOCRS 

Niccolo's  tomb  is  very  peculiar,  gothic  cer- 
tainly, but  almost  transitional  to  the  cinquecento. 
Niccolo,  the  Grand  Seneschal,  founder  of  the 
convent,  was  a  noble  character.  The  family, 
originally  from  Brescia,  and  named  after  the 
trade  they  rose  by,  attained  sovereignty  in  the 
person  of  Ranier,  nephew  of  the  Seneschal,  styled 
Duke  of  Athens  and  Lord  of  Thebes  and  Argos 
and  Sparta.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  bastard 
son  Antony,  and  the  latter  by  two  nephews, 
whom  he  invited  from  Florence,  Ranion  and 
Antony  Acciajuolo ;  the  son  of  the  latter,  Fran- 
cesco, finally  yielded  Athens  to  Mahomet  II  in 
1456,  and  was  soon  afterwards  strangled  by  his 
orders  at  Thebes." 

The  tomb  of  Bishop  Angelo  Acciajuolo,  by 
Donatello,  is  also  very  striking.  Of  the  recum- 
bent figure  of  the  Bishop  of  Cortona,  also  in  this 
crypt,  JNIr.  Perkins  says  :  — 

*'  It  is  v^ery  carefully  modelled:  the  flesh  parts 
are  well  treated,  and  the  drapery  is  disposed 
in  natural  folds.  It  has  almost  the  effect  of  a 
corpse  laid  out  for  burial  before  the  altar,  and 
produces  a  striking  effect." 

185 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Passing  on  to  the  foot  of  Bellosguardo,  one 
comes  to  the  ancient  Church  of  San  Francesco 
di  Paola,  where  the  bishop  of  Fiesole  hes,  of 
whose  tomb  Mr.  Perkins  says :  — 

"  The  admirably  truthful  figure  of  the  dead 
bishop,  clad  in  his  episcopal  robes,  is  laid  upon  a 
sarcophagus  within  a  square  recess,  whose  archi- 
trave and  side  posts  are  decorated  with  enamelled 
tiles,  painted  with  flowers  and  fruits  colored  after 
nature.  At  the  back  of  the  recess,  filling  up 
the  space  above  the  sarcophagus,  are  three  half- 
figures,  of  Christ,  the  Madonna,  and  St.  John ; 
all  the  faces  are  expressive,  and  that  of  the  Sa- 
viour is  especially  fine  and  full  of  mournful  dig- 
nity. Around  the  top  of  the  sarcophagus  runs 
a  rich  cornice,  below  which  are  sculptured  two 
flying  angels,  bearing  between  them  a  garland 
containing  an  inscription  setting  forth  the  name 
and  titles  of  the  deceased." 

The  panoramic  beauty  of  all  this  region  is  the 
more  exquisite  because  of  the  rich  color  scheme. 
The  amethyst  mountains  change  to  rose,  to  pur- 
ple, to  gray,  to  green,  the  delicate  shades  blend- 
ing into  each  other  and  deepening,  fading,  paling, 

186 


I 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

receding  as  one  watches  them.     It  was  from  this 
Bellosguardo  region  that  Hawthorne  wrote  :  — 

"  The  Umbrian  Valley  opens  before  us,  set  in 
its  grand  framework  of  nearer  and  more  distant 
hills.  It  seems  as  if  all  Italy  lay  under  our  eyes 
in  this  one  picture.  For  there  is  the  broad, 
sunny  smile  of  God,  which  we  fancy  to  be  spread 
over  this  favored  land  more  abundantly  than  on 
other  regions,  and  beneath  it  glows  a  most  rich 
and  varied  fertility.  The  trim  vineyards  are 
there,  and  the  fig  trees,  and  the  mulberries,  and 
the  smoky-hued  tracts  of  the  olive  orchards ; 
there,  too,  are  fields  of  every  kind  of  grain, 
among  which  waves  the  Indian  corn.  A\^hite 
villas,  gray  convents,  church  spires,  villages, 
towns,  each  with  its  battlemented  walls  and 
towered  gateway,  are  scattered  upon  this  spa- 
cious map ;  a  river  gleams  across  it ;  and  tlie 
lakes  open  their  blue  eyes  in  its  face,  reflecting 
heaven,  lest  mortals  should  forget  that  better 
land  when  they  behold  the  earth  so  beautiful." 

All  these  drives  and  the  old  cloisters  and  niches 
were  endeared  to  the  Storys  by  almost  daily  famil- 
iarity, and  Mr.  Browning  fi-equently  accompanied 

187 


THE   FLORENCE  OF  LANDOR 

them,  although  ^Nlrs.  Browning's  health  made 
excursions  seldom  possible  for  her.  Landor,  too, 
was  one  of  the  most  ardent  habitues  of  churches 
and  galleries.  His  mania  —  for  it  was  hardly 
less  —  for  collecting  old  paintings  was  one  of  his 
marked  characteristics,  as  was  his  lack  of  dis- 
crimination between  the  genuine  and  poor  imita- 
tions. During  one  of  his  last  drives  around 
Florence,  nan-ates  Kate  Field,  "  he  stopped  the 
horses  at  the  corner  of  a  dirty  little  old  street, 
and,  getting  out  of  the  carriage,  hurriedly  dis- 
appeared round  a  corner,  leaving  us  without 
explanation  and  consequently  in  amazement. 
We  had  not  long  to  wait,  however,  as  he  soon 
appeared  carrying  a  large  roll  of  canvas.  '  There ! ' 
he  exclaimed,  as  he  again  seated  himself,  '  I  've 
made  a  capital  bargain.  I  've  long  wanted  these 
paintings,  but  the  man  asked  more  than  I  could 
give.  To-day  he  relented.  They  are  very  clever, 
and  I  shall  have  them  framed.'  Alas  !  they  were 
not  clever,  and  Landor,  in  his  last  days,  had 
queer  notions  concerning  art.  That  he  was  ex- 
cessively fond  of  pictures  is  undoubtedly  true ; 
he  surrounded  himself  with  them,  but  there  was 
far  more  quantity  than  quality  about  them.  He 
frequently  attributed  very  bad  paintings  to  very 

188 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

good  masters ;  and  it  by  no  means  followed  be- 
cause he  called  a  battle-piece  a  '  Salvator  Rosa,' 
that  it  was  painted  by  Salvator.  IJiit  the  old 
man  was  tenacious  of  his  art  opinions,  and  it 
was  unwise  to  argue  the  point."  JNIr.  Browning 
always  endeavored  to  exert  a  restraining  influ- 
ence over  Landor's  too  indiscriminate  purchases, 
which  often  proved  to  be  a  small  fortune  to 
unscrupulous  dealers. 

Mrs.  Browning's  first  acquaintance  with  Lan- 
dor  began  in  England,  some  years  before  her 
marriage,  and  of  this  first  meeting  with  Landor 
and  Wordsworth  (in  183C),  she  wrote :  "  At  the 
same  time  I  saw  Landor  —  the  brilliant  Landor  ! 
and  felt  the  difference  between  gi-eat  genius  and 
eminent  talent."  That  she  had  stood  face  to 
face  with  these  two  poets ;  that  she  had  met 
'*  Landor,  in  whose  words  the  ashes  of  antiquity 
burn  again,"  was  an  event  to  her,  and  neither 
would  have  dreamed  how  this  meeting  initiated 
a  lifelong  friendship  destined  to  hold  peculiar 
experiences.  Landor  was  full  of  life  and  im- 
passioned energy.  He  had  been  one  of  the 
great  group  to  first  recognize  Robert  Browning's 
genius  on  the  appearance  of  "  Paracelsus,"  —  a 
group  which  included  Leigh  Hunt,  Barry  Corn- 

189 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

wall,  Dickens,  and  Wordsworth.  It  was  not, 
however,  until  after  the  marriage  of  Elizabeth 
Barrett  and  Robert  Browning,  and  their  estab- 
lishment in  Casa  Guidi  in  Florence,  that  Landor 
came  to  know  them  intimately,  and  the  apprecia- 
tion gradually  grew,  on  the  part  of  the  Brown- 
ings, to  tender  sohcitude  and  the  final  care  of 
Landor  in  his  latest  years.  When  "  Luria  "  had 
appeared  (in  1866),  Browning  dedicated  it  to 
Landor  in  these  words :  "  I  dedicate  this  last 
attempt  for  the  present  at  dramatic  poetry,  to  a 
great  dramatic  poet,  '  wishing  what  I  write  may 
be  read  by  his  light,'  if  a  phrase  originally  ad- 
dressed, by  not  the  least  worthy  of  his  contem- 
poraries, to  Shakespeare,  may  be  applied  here  by 
one  whose  sole  privilege  is  in  a  grateful  admira- 
tion to  Walter  Savage  Landor."  Of  Browning 
Landor  had  said  :  — 

"  He  has  sent  me  some  admirable  things.  I 
only  wish  he  would  atticize  a  little.  Few  of 
the  Athenians  had  such  a  quarry  on  their  prop- 
erty, but  they  constructed  better  roads  for  the 
conveyance  of  the  material." 

Still  later  Landor  had  written,  in  a  letter  to 

Southey :  — 

190 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

"  I  have  written  to  Browning  ;  a  great  poet  a 
very  great  poet,  indeed,  as  the  world  ^vill  have 
to  agree  with  us  in  tliinking.  1  am  now  deep 
in  the  SouPs  Tragedy.  The  sudden  close  of 
Luria  is  very  grand  ;  but  preceding  it  I  fear 
there  is  rather  too  much  of  argumentation  and 
reflection.  It  is  continued  too  long  after  the 
^loor  has  taken  the  poison.  I  may  be  wrong  • 
but  if  it  is  so,  you  will  see  it  and  tell  him.  God 
grant  he  may  live  to  be  much  greater  than  he  is, 
high  as  he  stands  above  most  of  the  living :  latis 
humeris  et  toto  vert  ice.  But  now  to  the  Souls 
Tragedy,  and  so  adieu  till  we  meet  at  this  very 
table." 

The  foundation  of  the  fi'iendship  which  was  to 
prove  to  be  to  Landor  the  blessing  of  his  last 
years  was  thus  laid  in  intellectual  appreciation 
and  mutual  esteem.  "It  requires  a  god  to  rec- 
ognize a  god,"  runs  an  old  proverb.  In  this  case 
the  recognition  was  mutual  and  generous.  Lan- 
dor's  admiration  for  Mrs.  Browning  was  infinitely 
deepened  and  extended  when  *'  Aurora  Leigh  " 
appeared.  "  I  am  reading  a  poem,"  he  wrote  of 
it,  "  full  of  thought  and  fascinating  with  fancy. 
—  ISlrs.   Brownings  Aurora  Leigh.      In  many 

191 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

pages  there  is  the  wild  imagination  of  Shakes- 
peare. I  had  no  idea  that  any  one  in  this  age 
was  capable  of  so  much  poetry.  I  am  half  drunk 
with  it.  Never  did  I  think  I  should  have  a  good 
hearty  draught  of  poetry  again :  the  distemper 
had  got  into  the  vineyard  that  produced  it. 
Here  are  indeed,  even  here,  some  flies  upon  the 
surface,  as  there  always  will  be  upon  what  is 
sweet  and  strong.  I  know  not  yet  what  the 
story  is.     Few  possess  the  power  of  construction." 

Although  the  Storys  made  occasional  \dsits  to 
Florence,  and  had  passed  several  summers  in 
Siena,  they  did  not  come  to  know  Landor  well 
until  the  very  close  of  his  life.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Story  had  once  paid  him  a  brief  visit  in  England, 
introduced  to  him  by  IMr.  Kenyon,  and  of  this 
Mrs.  Story  records  that  he  was  extremely  cordial 
and  kind  and  induced  them  to  pass  some  time 
with  him.  "  He  had  his  walls  lined  with  paint- 
ings, of  no  great  value,  I  believe,"  she  adds, 
"  but  bearing  high-sounding  names  of  the  Italian 
schools." 

The  friendship  between  the  Brownings  and  the 
Storys  was,  on  the  part  of  the  latter,  at  least,  the 
most  interesting  of  their  lives.  ]\Ir.  Henry  James 
narrates   with   what   eager  response    ]\Ir.    Story 

192 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

visited  every  day  the  Pitti  gallery,  at  the  time 
of  his  first  sojourn  in  Florence,  when  he  and 
Browning  met,  and  how  Mr.  Story  abounded 
"  in  descriptions  of  pictures,  statues,  museums, 
churches,  and  in  enthusiasms,  opinions,  and  dis- 
appointments." All  this  artistic  tumult  fasci- 
nated Browning's  imagination.  During  one  of 
the  early  sojourns  of  the  Story s  in  Florence  came 
Mr.  and  INIrs.  Christopher  Pearse  Cranch  of  Cam- 
bridge, Massachusetts,  and  they  all  "  sat  over  the 
fire  and  told  stories."  Mr.  Cranch  was  one  of 
those  versatile  and  delicately  gifted  New  Eng- 
landers  —  a  poet,  painter,  musician,  who,  Hke 
Jones  Very  and  Dr.  Parsons,  must  be  closely 
and,  indeed,  reverently  approached  to  be  in  any 
adequate  sense  appreciated.  He  was  a  man  of 
exquisite  divination,  as  revealed  for  instance  in  a 
stanza  of  his  :  — 

"  We  are  spirits  clad  in  veils  : 
Man  by  man  was  never  seen  ; 
All  our  deep  communion  fails 
To  remove  the  shadowy  screen." 

Together  Browning  and  Story  made  excursions 
to  the  old  Badia,  which  contains  that  beautiful 
tomb  by  Mino  da  Fiesole ;  the  quaint  and  mas- 
sive Bargello,  formerly  the  Palace  of  the  Podesta, 

13  193 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

whose  picturesque  court,  with  its  grand  staircase 
by  Goddi  impressed  them,  it  may  well  be  be- 
lieved, in  the  same  profound  manner  that  is  felt 
by  the  artistically  inclined  tourist  of  to-day.  The 
fine  upper  loggia,  the  design  of  Orcagna,  is  his 
best  monument,  and  the  tragic  cell  for  the  con- 
demned —  rarely  vacant  in  his  day  —  still  gives  a 
shiver  to  the  sensitive  observer.  The  Arms  of 
the  Duke  of  Athens  and  those  of  more  than  two 
hundred  Podestas,  are  a  rich  and  effective  feature 
of  the  court.  The  upper  salons  which  were  for- 
merly the  apartments  of  the  Podesta  contain 
many  notable  objects ;  Donatello's  "  David," 
standing  with  his  foot  on  the  head  of  Goliath ; 
the  wonderful  "  Dancing  Mercury  "  of  Giovanni 
da  Bologna,  with  its  airy,  floating  lightness  ;  a 
gruesome  reliquary ;  and  countless  old  bronzes, 
frescoes,  and  curios. 

To  what  extent  Santa  Croce  impressed  the 
poet  and  the  sculptor,  there  is  no  record.  Mrs. 
Browning  seems  always  to  have  been  fascinated 
by  Santa  Maria  Novella,  with  its  famous  Cim- 
abue,  and  the  strange  old  green  cloister.  Santa 
Croce  is  the  Westminster  Abbey  of  Florence ;  and 
the  tombs  of  Michael  Angelo,  of  Machiavelli, 
of  Alfieri,  the  frescoes  of  Giotto  in  the  Capella 

194 


Mi;u(  I  UN . 
From  the  Bron;e  o/  Giovanni  da  Bologna. 


I 


IDYLLIC    HOURS 

Peruzzi  —  the  finest  series  that  he  ever  produced 
—  allure  one  to  linger  away  many  a  morning 
until  the  old  sacristan  relentlessly  closes  its  doors. 
The  Storys  spend  "  long,  quiet  evenings  with  the 
Brownings  at  Casa  Guidi,"  and  Mrs.  Story  and 
Mrs.  Browning  read  and  discuss  "  Jane  Eyre " 
together.  "  Plainly  'Jane  Eyre '  is  by  a  woman," 
said  Mrs.  Browning.  At  the  festival  of  Corpus 
Domini  the  Storys  and  the  Brownings  together 
watch  the  motley  procession  that  fills  the  streets 
between  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  and  the  piazza  of 
Santa  JNIaria  Novella,  where  the  compagnie  of 
the  churches,  costumed  in  white,  with  curls  on 
their  heads  and  with  black  draperies,  march  with 
their  banners ;  the  nobility,  richly  clad  with 
scarlet  capes,  follow,  and  the  Host  is  borne, 
under  a  sumptuous  canopy,  into  the  church,  the 
soldiers  all  kneeling  in  the  piazza  as  it  passes. 
All  the  nameless  fascination  of  foreign  customs 
charmed  the  eye  and  furnished  that  scenic  back- 
ground which  made  so  picturesque  the  friendship 
between  the  Storys  and  the  Brownings.  Mr. 
Story  writes  from  Rome  to  James  Russell 
Lowell,  after  one  of  their  returns  from  Florence, 
that  Browning  has  "  great  vivacity  .  .  .  and  very 
great  frankness  and  friendliness  of  manner  and 

195 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LAXDOR 

mind."  There  was  an  idyllic  summer  at  Bagni 
di  Lucca,  when,  high  up  in  the  chestnut-wooded 
hills,  the  Brownings  and  the  Storys  passed  idle 
days  together  ;  taking  evening  drives  along  the 
rushing  little  Serchio  where  Shelley  used  to  row 
his  boat,  and  "  falling  asleep  whenever  the  wind 
blew  coolly  through  the  windows."  Both  Mr. 
and  ]Mrs.  Browning  were  deeply  absorbed  in 
work  that  summer,  —  she  engaged  on  "  Aurora 
Leigh,"  and  he  busy  in  collecting  and  revising 
his  lyric  poems  for  publication.  This  Arcadian 
life  was  full  of  brightness.  There  is  a  picnic  to 
Porto  Fiorito,  —  the  revelries  being  conducted 
by  the  Brownings,  the  Storys,  and  Mr.  Lytton, 
who.  Secretary  of  the  Legation  in  Florence,  es- 
capes for  a  day  in  the  woods.  They  "passed 
over  wild  and  grand  scenery  "  and  found  an  old 
church  "  from  which  the  view  was  magnificent,— 
with  deep  patches  of  purple  shade  and  little  grey 
towns  perched  here  and  there."  And  on  another 
day  they  dined  together  "on  a  smooth  grassy 
table  under  the  trees  and  rocks."  And  Mr. 
Story  records :  ^  "  The  whole  day  in  the  woods 
with  the  Brownings.     We  went  at  ten  o'clock, 

1  "  William  Wetmore  Story  ;  And  His  Friends."     By  kind  permis- 
sion of  Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

196 


IDYLLIC   HOURS 

carrying  our  provisions.  Browning  and  I  walked 
to  the  spot,  and  there,  spreading  shawls  under  the 
great  chestnuts,  we  read  and  talked  the  livelong 
day,  the  Lima,  at  our  feet,  babbling  on  over  the 
stones."  ...  So  the  gods  talked,  apparently 

"  in  the  breath  of  the  woods  ;  " 
and  we  have  Emerson's  word  for  it  that 

"  the  poet  who  overhears 
Some  random  word  they  say 
Is  the  fated  man  of  men 
Whom  the  ages  must  obey." 

When  the  Storys  were  not  in  Florence  there 
were  always  possibilities  that  the  Brownings 
might  be  in  Rome,  —  their  journey  thither,  on 
one  trip,  extending  over  eight  days,  during  which 
they  visited  Assisi,  and  its  great  monastery  and 
triple  church.  They  arrived  in  Rome  to  find 
that  the  Storys  had  taken  an  apartment  for  them, 
and  to  find  "  lighted  lamps  and  fires,  and  smiling 
faces  that  evening."  Later  there  came  the  Siena 
summers  when  the  Storys  and  the  Brownings 
made  their  villcggiatura  in  the  strange  medifuval 
hill-town,  one  summer  of  which  Landor  was  with 
them  as  the  guest  of  the  Storys.  These  lovely 
chapters  of  life  ran  on  from  year  to  year  until, 

197 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

in  the  last  June  days  of  1861,  Elizabeth  Browning 
entered  on  that  life  more  abundant;  and  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  century  later,  in  the  Decem- 
ber of  1889,  came  to  Robert  Browning  the  beau- 
tiful realization  of  his  immortal  lines  :  — 

"  O  thou  soul  of  my  soul  !  I  shall  clasp  thee  again. 
And  with  God  be  the  rest !  " 


198 


Ah  what  avails  the  sceptred  race, 

Ah  ivhat  the  form  divine  ! 
What  every  virtue,  every  grace  ! 

Rose  Aylmer,  all  7vere  thine. 
Rose  Aylmer,  whom  these  wakefol  eyes 

May  weep,  hut  never  see, 
A  night  of  memories  and  of  sighs 

I  consecrate  to  thee. 

Walter  Savage  Landor. 

Come  lovely  and  soothing  death. 

Undulate  round  the  world,  serenely  arriving,  arriving. 
In  the  day,  in  the  night,  to  all,  to  each,  . 

Sooner  or  later  delicate  death. 

The  night,  in  silence  under  many  a  star, 

Arid  the  soul  turning  to  thee  O  vast  and  well-veitd  death. 

J  bring  thee  a  song  that  when  thou  must  indeed  comt,  come 

unfolteringly. 

Walt  Whitman. 

The  lingering  charm  of  a  dream  that  has  Jled, 
The  roses  breath  when  the  rose  is  dead. 
The  echo  that  lives  when  the  song  is  done, 
The  sunset  glories  that  follow  the  sun, — 
Everything  tender  and  everything  fair 
That  was,  and  is  not,  and  yet  is  there  —  ... 

Louise  Chandler  Moulton. 


THE  DREAM  OF  ROSE  AYLMER 

"  The  lilies  die  with  the  dying  hours  ! 
Hushed  is  the  song-birds'  lay. 
But  I  dream  of  sunnmers  and  dream  of  flowers 
That  last  alway. " 

A  VISION,  just  revealed  and  then  withdrawn  ;  a 
dream  that  fled  in  the  moment  of  waking ;  a 
voice  whose  echo  alone  thrilled  the  air :  — 

"...  one  blue  deep  hour 
Of  lilies  musical  with  busy  bliss,  —  " 

and  then  withdrawn  into  the  unseen  world  to 
make  Paradise  more  fair,  —  something  of  this 
was  the  dream  of  Rose  Aylmer  in  the  life  of 
Walter  Savage  Landor,  —  a  girl  of  seventeen 
with  whom  he  wandered  among  garden  roses 
and  in  shady  lanes  one  summer  in  his  earliest 
youth ;  a  girl  who  lent  him  a  romance  from 
whose  pages  he  derived  his  idea  of  the  poem  of 
"  Gebir ; "  and  then  their  paths  divided,  —  hers 
turning  to  India,  where  at  the  age  of  twenty  she 
died,  and  his  into  the  busy  and  absorbing  ex- 
periences of  life  and  literature,  from  whence,  only 

201 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

at  the  age  of  nearly  ninety  years,  was  he  released 
to  go  on  into  that  far,  fair  country  we  shall  all 
one  day  see.  Yet,  that  this  momentary  vision  of 
Rose  Aylmer,  in  all  her  youth  and  grace  and 
loveliness,  left  on  Landor  the  most  intense  and 
permanent  impress  of  all  the  experiences  of  his 
ninety  years  of  life,  can  be  doubted  only  by  those 
who  fail  to  understand  that  intense  and  eternal 
reality  of  an  impress  made  on  the  imagination.  It 
is  the  lightning- flash  that  leaves  its  mark  ;  the  ex- 
perience of  one  instant  that  stamps  a  lifetime. 

"  His  instant  thought  a  poet  spoke 
And  filled  the  age  his  fame. 
An  inch  of  ground  the  lightning  struck 
But  lit  the  sky  with  flame." 

The  poetry  of  a  lifetime  may  be  condensed 
into  one  brief  summer's  hour,  but  that  hour  will 
hold  an  influence  far  outweighing  that  of  all  the 
years.  These  are  the  moments  that  stamp  their 
impress  indelibly  on  life ;  that  control  and  de- 
termine its  entire  course  and  destiny.  No  one 
can  ever  go  back  of  such  experiences  and  be  the 
same  as  before. 

"  Not  wholly  can  the  heart  unlearn 
The  lesson  of  its  better  hours, 
Nor  yet  has  Time's  dull  footstep  worn 
To  common  dust  that  path  of  flowers." 
202 


THE  DREAM  OF  ROSE  AYLMER 

Like  a  strain  of  ethereal  music  running  as  Ji 
motif  through  a  great  symphony,  so  the  dream 
of  Rose  Ayhiier  ran  through  all  I^andor's  long 
and  varied  experiences,  only  occasionally  recur- 
ring to  outward  recognition,  but  holding  its  subtle 
coloring  and  control  of  his  inner  life.  There  are 
glimpses  of  things  too  beautiful  for  earthly  reali- 
zation that  sometimes  flash  upon  the  \^sion  ; 
through  space  and  silence  soul  calls  to  soul,  and 
all  the  fairy  bells  ring  out  in  ethereal  melody  ; 
recognitions  come  as  pledge  and  prophecy  alone, 
and  are  withdrawn  to  flower  into  perfect  realiza- 
tion in  the  life  beyond.  Yet  within  the  cloud 
the  glory  lives  undimmed,  nor  can  any  outer 
experience  in  life  compare,  in  intensity  and  in 
ineffaceable  impression,  with  these.  Never  can 
these  experiences  be  banished  from  memory  and 
imagination. 

"  We  cross  an  unseen  line 
And  lo  !  another  zone." 

It  is  that  which  eludes  the  grasp,  that  which 
can  never  be  defined,  that  thrills  the  soul  with  its 
immortal  loveliness. 

"  The  rose  we  gathered  not 
Lives  in  our  hearts  forever." 
203 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

It  is  the  voice  that  "  jfrom  inmost  dreamland 
calls  "  which  echoes  down  the  pathway  of  a  life- 
time. In  the  beautiful  words  of  Florence  Earle 
Coates,  — 

"  Something  I  may  not  win  attracts  me  ever,  — 
Something  elusive,  yet  supremely  fair. 
Thrills  me  with  gladness,  but  contents  me  never. 
Fills  me  with  sadness,  yet  forbids  despair. 

*'  It  blossoms  just  beyond  the  paths  I  follow. 
It  shines  beyond  the  farthest  stars  I  see. 
It  echoes  faint  from  ocean  caverns  hollow. 
And  from  the  land  of  dreams  it  beckons  me. 

"  It  calls,  and  all  my  best,  with  joyful  feeling. 
Essays  to  reach  it  as  I  make  reply : 
I  feel  its  sweetness  o'er  my  spirit  stealing 
Yet  know  ere  I  attain  it,  I  must  die ! " 

The  finer  fruitions  of  life  are  like  the  seed  that 
is  not  quickened  unless  it  dies. 

"  The  choicest  fruitage  comes  not  with  the  spring ; 
But  still  for  summer's  mellowing  touch  must  wait. 
For  storms  and  tears  which  seasoned  excellence  bring." 

The  life  in  this  world 

" .  .  .  is  not  conclusion  ; 
A  sequel  lies  beyond." 

The  more  significant  and  the  more  real  expe- 
riences await  their  fruition  in  the  life  which  is  to 

201 


THE  DREAM   OF   ROSE   AYLxMER 

come.  "  Love  comes  not  by  obeyed  commands, 
but  by  fulfilled  conditions."  Between  Walter 
Savage  Landor  and  Rose  Aylmer  the  conditions 
were  not  then  fulfilled.  It  was  a  poetic  rather 
than  an  emotional  dream  that  Rose  Aylmer  in- 
spired in  the  poet ;  yet  there  can  hardly  be  a 
question  as  to  the  unconscious  influence  that  her 
memory  exercised  over  his  life,  —  an  influence  of 
exquisite  delicacy  and  exaltation.  The  charm  of 
the  little  lyric  which  bears  Rose  Aylmer 's  name 
as  its  title  is  something  that  eludes  all  analysis 
and  enchains  every  heart.  "  The  deep  and  tender 
pathos  of  that  little  poem  could  hardly  be  sur- 
passed," says  John  Forster,  and  in  delicacy  and 
sweetness  it  is  perfect.  It  was  first  printed  in  its 
present  form  some  years  after  it  was  \mtten,  — 
and  has  since  affected  many  readers  with  the 
same  indefinable  charm  ascribed  to  it  by  Charles 
Lamb  in  an  unpublished  letter  to  Landor  in 
1832,  when  he  wrote  :  "  Many  things  I  had  to 
say  to  you  which  there  was  not  time  for.  One 
why  should  I  forget?  'Tis  for  Rose  Aylmer, 
which  has  a  charm  I  cannot  explain.  I  lived 
upon  it  for  weeks." 

Mjlh  and  legend  and  reality  have  so  united 
themselves   regarding    the   personality   of  Rose 

205 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

Aylmer  that  many  of  the  readers  and  lovers  of 
I^andor  have  hardly  ascribed  to  her  an  existence 
more  real  than  that  of  Poe's  "  Lenore."  Yet 
Rose  had  a  local  habitation  and  a  name  and  a 
most  interesting  history,  however  brief  in  its  ex- 
periences on  earth.  The  Honorable  Rose  Whit- 
worth  Aylmer  was  born  in  England  in  October, 
1779,  and  died  on  INIarch  2,  1800,  in  India.  The 
Aylmer  family  date  back  to  John  Aylmer, 
bishop  of  London  in  the  sixteenth  century. 
From  him  was  descended  Baron  Aylmer,  the 
fourth  of  that  title,  who  died  in  1785.  Lady 
Aylmer  and  her  daughters  were  living  in  retire- 
ment in  Swansea,  Wales,  when  Landor,  sus- 
pended from  Oxford  for  some  infringement  of 
college  rules,  fixed  on  Swansea  as  his  place  of 
retreat  to  read  Milton  and  Pindar,  he  being  just 
twenty-one  at  the  time ;  and  thus  the  fates 
arranged  their  meeting.  A  younger  sister  of 
Rose  became  Mrs.  Paynter  and  her  two  daugh- 
ters, Rose  and  Sophy,  were  well  known  in 
I^ondon  Society.  Rose  Paynter  became  Lady 
Graves-Sawle,  and  a  miniature  of  her,  painted  by 
O.  J.  Taylor,  portrays  her  as  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  women.  To  her  Landor  WTote  a 
great  number  of  letters  ranging  over  the  years 

206 


THE  DREAM  OF  ROSE  AYLMER 

from  about  1838  to  1863,  shortly  before  liis  death. 
It  was  soon  after  estabhshing  himself  in  \'illa 
l^andor  on  the  Fiesolan  hills  that  he  met  Mrs. 
Paynter  —  somewhere  early  in  the  decade  of 
1830-40.  He  had  not  seen  her  before  since,  as 
a  little  child,  he  remembered  her  when  meeting 
daily  with  the  beautiful  Rose,  the  dream  of  his 
early  youth.  Mrs.  Paynter  gave  him  a  lock  of 
Rose's  hair,  a  tress  of  burnished  gold,  which  to 
the  latest  day  of  his  life  he  kept  in  his  cedar 
AVTiting-desk.  Not  long  before  his  death  Landor 
opened  this  desk  one  day  to  show  its  treasures  to 
Kate  Field,  who  has  thus  recorded  the  incident : 

•  *"  lanthe's  portrait  is  not  the  only  treasure  this 
old  desk  contains,'  Landor  said,  as  he  replaced  it 
and  took  up  a  small  package,  very  carefully  tied, 
which  he  undid  with  great  precaution,  as  though 
the  treasure  had  wings  and  inight  escape,  if  not 
well  guarded.  '  There  ! '  he  said,  holding  up  a 
pen-wiper  made  of  red  and  gold  stuff  in  the  shape 
of  a  bell  with  an  ivory  handle,  — '  that  pen- wiper 

was  given  to  me  by ,  Rose's  sister,  forty  years 

ago.  Would  you  believe  it  ?  Have  I  not  kept  it 
well  ? '  The  pen-wiper  looked  as  though  it  had 
been  made  the  day  before,  so  fresh  was  it.    *  Now,' 

207 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

continued  Landor,  '  I  intend  to  give  that  to 
you.' 

"  '  But,  Mr.  Landor  — ' 

"  '  Tut !  tut !  there  are  to  be  no  buts  about  it. 
INIy  passage  for  another  world  is  already  engaged, 
and  I  know  you  '11  take  good  care  of  my  keepsake. 
There,  now,  put  it  in  your  pocket,  and  only  use 
it  on  grand  occasions.' 

"Into  my  pocket  the  pen-wiper  went,  and, 
wTapped  in  the  same  old  paper,  it  lies  in  another 
desk,  as  free  from  ink  as  it  was  four  years  ago. 

"  Who  Rose  was,  no  reader  of  Landor  need  be 
told,  —  she  to  whom  '  Andrea  of  Hungary '  was 
dedicated,  and  of  whom  Lady  Blessington,  in  one 
of  her  letters  to  Landor,  WTote :  '  The  tuneful 
bird,  inspired  of  old  by  the  Persian  rose,  warbled 
not  more  harmoniously  its  praise  than  you  do  that 
of  the  English  Rose,  whom  posterity  will  know 
through  your  beautiful  verses.'  Many  and  many 
a  time  the  gray-bearded  poet  related  incidents  of 
which  this  English  Rose  was  the  heroine,  and  for 
the  moment  seemed  to  live  over  again  an  interest- 
ing episode  of  his  mature  years." 

It  was  undoubtedly  the  lady  whom  Landor 
called  "  lanthe  "  to  whom  he  wrote  the  stanzas  : 

208 


THE  DREAM  OF  ROSE  AYLMER 

"  No,  my  own  love  of  other  years  ! 

No,  it  must  never  be. 
Much  rests  with  you  that  yet  endears, 

Alas  !  but  what  with  me  ? 
Could  those  bright  years  o'er  me  revolve 

So  gay,  o'er  you  so  fair, 
The  pearl  of  life  we  would  dissolve 

And  each  the  cup  might  share. 
You  show  that  truth  can  ne'er  decay, 

Whatever  fate  befalls ; 
I,  that  the  myrtle  and  the  bay 

Shoot  fresh  on  ruin'd  walls." 

Stephen  Wheeler,  the  accomphshed  editor  of  a 
number  of  "  Letters,"  and  heretofore  unpubhshed 
writings  of  Landor,  says  in  one  of  his  interesting 
volumes  :  — 

"  I  have  been  unable  to  find  any  portrait  of 
Rose  Aylmer.  In  ]\Ir,  Andrew  Langs  collec- 
tion of  lyrics  there  is  a  picture  of  a  ghost-like 
lady  which  is  supposed  to  represent  her,  but  it  is, 
I  fear,  merely  a  fancy  sketch.  A  portrait  of 
Lady  Graves-Sawle,  Rose  Aylmer  s  niece,  was 
published  in  the  '  Book  of  Beauty  for  1840.'  " 

Rose  Aylmer  went  out  to  India  in  May  of  1798, 
with  her  uncle  and  aunt,  Sir  Henry  and  Lady 
Russell.  Sir  Henry  was  then  the  Judge  of  the 
Supreme   Court  of  Judicature  in  Bombay  and 

li  209 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

he  was  one  of  the  distinguished  men  of  the  time 
and  was  appointed  to  this  responsible  position  by 
the  Crown.  Lady  Russell  took  with  her  two 
nieces,  Rose  Aylmer  and  another  young  girl  who 
became  the  wife  of  Sir  Theophilus  Metcalfe.  Of 
Miss  Aylmer 's  two  years'  life  in  India  no  record 
seems  obtainable  ;  but  her  death  is  chronicled  in 
an  Indian  journal  entitled  the  "  Asiatic  Register," 
the  notice  reading  that  "  the  Hon.  Miss  Aylmer, 
a  young  lady  of  great  beauty  and  accomplishments, 
died  in  Calcutta  on  IMarch  3,  1800,  of  Asiatic 
cholera."  Her  tomb  is  in  the  design  of  a  high 
shaft  set  on  a  pedestal  composed  of  several  tiers 
of  steps.  It  is  in  the  cemetery  in  South  Park 
Street  in  Calcutta,  and  engraved  on  it  is  the  fol- 
lowing inscription :  — 

"  In  memory  of  the  Honorable  Rose  Whit- 
worth  Aylmer,  who  departed  this  Ufe  March  3, 
1800,  aged  twenty  years." 

It  is  said  to  be  to  her  death  that  Landor  alludes 
in  the  lines :  — 

"  My  pictures  blacken  in  their  frames 
As  night  comes  on. 
And  youthful  maids  and  wrinkled  dames 
Are  now  all  one. 

210 


THE  DREAM  OF  ROSE  AYLMER 

"  Death  of  the  day  !     A  sterner  Death 
Did  worse  before ; 
The  fairest  form,  the  sweetest  breath 
Away  he  bore." 

AVhen  Mrs.  Paynter  gave  the  lock  of  her 
sister's  hair  to  Landor,  he  wrote  :  — 

"  Beautiful  spoils  !  borne  off  from  vanquisht  death  ! 
Upon  my  heart's  high  altar  shall  ye  lie, 
Moved  but  by  only  one  adorer's  breath. 
Retaining  youth,  rewarding  constancy." 

To  Lady  Graves-Sawle  before  her  marriage  lie 
wrote  a  httle  birthday  verse  that  ran  :  — 

"  Ten  days,  ten  only,  intervene 
Within  your  natal  day 
And  mine,  O  Rose  !  —  but  wide  between 
What  years  there  spread  away !  " 

The  voluminous  letters  written  by  Landor  to 
Lady  Graves-Sawle,  both  for  years  before  her 
marriage,  and  after  it,  up  to  the  closing  year  of 
his  life,  reveal  Landor  in  all  his  tenderness  and 
playful  joy  of  spirit.  In  Rose  Paynter  he  felt 
some  one  akin  to  his  dream-love.  Rose  Aylmer. 
Although  Miss  Paynter  had  never  seen  her  aunt, 
yet  for  Rose  Aylmer's  sake  as  well  as  her  own, 
she  was   endeared   to  T>andor.     Under  date   of 

211 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

December,  1838,  he  writes  to  Rose  Paynter  in 
Paris :  "  You  ought  to  be  very  happy,  for  you 
have  taken  all  our  happiness  with  you,  and  you 
know  how  much  there  was  of  it.  When  on  one 
side  of  you  is  sorrow  at  leaving  the  most  affec- 
tionate of  mothers  ;  on  the  other  all  the  pleasures 
and  all  the  hopes  awaiting  and  inviting  you,  con- 
sider what  a  precious  thing  it  is  to  be  so  beloved 
by  everybody.  It  will  never  make  you  proud  : 
may  it  always  make  you  happy." 

Again  he  playfully  writes  to  her  :  — 

"  Did  mamma  ever  let  you  into  the  secret  that 
she  sometimes  writes  Italian  poetry  ?  She  wrote 
these  lines  on  the  Friday  :  — 

PENSIERI    DI    MAMMA 

'  Si,  reposa  la  mia  Rosa  ! 
La  mattina  pallidina 
Segnera  per  infelici ; 
Chi  sa,  chi  sa,  quanti  amici ! 
Sosterranno  dire  addio 
Tutti  quellij  —  ma  non  io.' 

"  I  never  prided  myself  on  my  talents  for 
translation,  but  I  have  attempted  to  give  the 

212 


i 


THE  DREAM  OF  ROSE  AYLMER 

following   as   much  the  air   of  the   original    as 
possible :  — 

'  Calmly  fall  the  nifrht's  repose 
On  your  eyelids,  blessed  Rose  ! 
When  pale  morning  shines  again. 
It  will  shine  on  bitter  pain. 
Friends  who  see  you  go  away 
(Oh,  how  many  friends  !)  will  say, 
"Blessed  Rose!  adieu!  adieu!" 
I  may  bear  to  say  it,  too. 
But  alas  !  when  far  from  you.' 

"...  I  have  brought  your  rose-tree  into  the 
house  this  morning.  It  lost  its  last  leaf  the 
day  you  went.  .  .  .  Wear  for  my  sake  on  your 
birthday  the  small  white  flower  which  you  tell 
me  has  been  admired  in  Paris.  .  .  .  You  have 
much  to  do,  much  to  see,  much  to  enjoy ;  I  will 
not  allow  you  to  sacrifice  too  many  half-hours  in 
WTiting  to  me ;  for  I  know  that  I  shall  always 
possess  a  quiet  little  nook  in  your  memory." 

In  a  letter  to  Miss  Paynter  under  date  of 
March,  1839,  accompanying  a  copy  for  her  of 
his  little  volume,  "  Andrea  of  Hungary  and 
Giovanna  of  Naples,"  I^andor  says :  "  Believe 
me,  it  is  a  horrible  thing  to  have  many  literary 
friends.     They  are  apt  to  fiincy  that,  however 

213 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

your  time  may  be  occupied,  you  must  at  all 
events  have  time  enough  to  read  what  they  send 
you." 

Of  Dickens  Landor  wrote,  in  a  letter  to  INliss 
Paynter :  "  You  fill  me  with  delight  by  your 
generous  and  just  remarks  on  Dickens.  No 
mortal  man  ever  exerted  so  beneficial  and  exten- 
sive an  influence  over  the  human  heart." 

A  little  lyric  written  to  this  later  Rose  of  his 
friendship  thus  runs  :  — 

"  Nay,  thank  me  not  again  for  those 
Camellias,  that  untimely  rose  ; 
But  if,  whence  you  might  please  the  more. 
And  win  the  few  unwon  before, 
I  sought  the  flowers  you  loved  to  wear 
O'erjoyed  to  see  them  in  your  hair. 
Upon  my  grave,  I  pray  you,  set 
One  primrose  or  one  violet. 
Nay,  I  can  wait  a  little  yet." 

To  Mrs.  Paynter,  Landor  remarked  in  a  letter 
that  her  daughter  Rose  had  kept  alive  in  him  the 
spirit  of  poetry. 

Miss  Paynter  was  married  in  February  of  1866 
to  Sir  Charles  Graves-Sawle,  and  for  her  wedding 
day  Landor  sent  her  a  poem  in  which  occur  the 
lines :  — 

214 


THE  DREAM  OF  ROSE  AYLMER 

"...  Arise, 
Far-sighted  bride  I  Look  forward  !  Clearer  views 
And  higher  hopes  lie  under  calmer  skies. 
Fortune  in  vain  called  out  to  thee  ;  in  vain 
Rays  from  high  regions  darted  ;  Wit  poured  out 
His  sparkling  treasures  ;  Wisdom  laid  his  crown 
Of  richer  jewels  at  thy  reckless  feet. 
Well  hast  thou  chosen.     I  repeat  the  words. 
Adding  as  true  ones,  not  untold  before. 
That  incense  must  have  fire  for  its  ascent. 
Else  't  is  inert  and  cannot  reach  the  idol." 

For  the  birthday  of  Lady  Graves-Sawle  in  1857 
he  sent  her  the  lyric  :  — 

"  The  shadows  deepen  round  me  ;  take, 
I  will  not  say  my  last  adieu, 
But,  this  faint  verse  ;  and  for  my  sake 
Keep  the  last  line  1  trace  for  you. 

"The  years  that  lightly  touch  your  head 
Nor  steal  away  nor  change  one  hair 
Press  upon  mine  with  heavy  tread 
And  leave  but  barren  laurels  there." 

In  1860  he  is  urging  Lady  Graves-Sawle  and 
her  husband  to  visit  him  in  Florence.  "The 
Gulf  of  Spezia  is  quite  as  well  worth  seeing  as 
the  Bay  of  Naples,"  he  says,  '*  and  Florence  is 
richer  in  works  of  art  than  any  other  city  in  the 
world." 

215 


THE    FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Again,  in  January  of  1862,  he  writes  to  her  of 
the  many  friends  who  are  dead.  '*  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing among  these  ;  and  Browning  has  gone  to  Eng- 
land, probably  never  to  revisit  Florence.  There 
still  remain  Kirkup  and  Mrs.  TroUope."  And  the 
last  letter  that  Landor  ever  wrote  to  this  cherished 
young  friend  was  on  her  birthday,  January  19,  of 
1864.  "  You  see,  dear  Rose,"  he  writes,  "that  I 
have  not  forgotten  the  nineteenth  of  January. 
May  you  have  many  such  birthdays,  all  as  happy 
as  any  in  the  past.  In  ten  days  more  I  shall 
enter  my  eighty-ninth  year.  .  .  .  This  is  probably 
the  last  tidings  you  will  receive  from  your  affec- 
tionate old  friend." 

So  it  proved  to  be,  although  Landor  lived  on 
until  the  following  September.  But  in  all  the 
chapters  of  human  history  there  is  perhaps  no 
more  tender  and  poetic  idyl  than  this  Dream  of 
Rose  Aylmer  transferred  from  the  beautiful  ideal 
of  his  earliest  youth  to  her  niece  and  namesake. 
Rose  Paynter,  and  thus  continuing  over  a  space 
of  sixty-eight  years,  even  into  the  closing  years 
of  his  life. 

In  February  of  1896   Sir  Charles  and   Lady 

Graves- S  a wle  celebrated  their  golden  wedding  at 

their  home  in  Penrice,  Cornwall     They  were  the 

216 


THE  DREAM   OF  KOSE   AYLMEIl 

recipients  of  many  gifts,  among  which  were  a  pair 
of  gold  Queen  Anne  cups,  presented  by  the  Earl 
of  Mount-Edgcombe  in  behalf  of  the  county 
magistrates,  with  an  illuminated  address  and  a 
gold  clock  from  their  tenantry.  Sir  Charles 
Graves-Sawle  was  then  eighty  years  of  age.  This 
event  of  less  than  a  decade  since  seems  to  strangely 
bridge  the  time  from  the  lovely  Rose  Aylmer  of 
Landor's  most  exquisite  lyric  to  the  present  day. 
Nor  can  this  chapter  in  the  life  of  Walter  Savage 
Landor  have  any  other  closing  save  the  lyric  — 
almost  the  last  that  ever  came  from  his  pen  — 
that  follows  : 

"  The  grave  is  open  ;  soon  to  close 
On  him  who  sang  the  charms  of  Rose, 
Her  pensive  brow,  her  placid  eye, 
Her  smile,  angelic  purity, 
Her  voice  so  sweet,  her  speech  so  sage. 
It  checked  wild  Youth  and  cheered  dull  Age, 
Her  truth  when  others  were  untrue. 
And  vows  forgotten. 

Friends,  adieu  ! 
The  grave  is  open.  .  .  .  O  how  far 
From  under  that  bright  morning  star."  , 

The  rest  is  silence. 


217 


There  have  been  instances  of  culture  developed  by  every  high 
motive  in  turn,  and  yet  intense  at  every  point  ;  and  the  aim  of  our 
culture  should  be  to  attain  not  only  as  intense  but  as  complete  a  life 
as  possible.  But  often  the  higher  life  is  only  possible  at  all  on  con- 
dition of  a  selection  of  that  in  which  one's  motive  is  native  and 
strong  ;  and  this  selection  involves  the  renunciation  of  a  cronm  re- 
sented for  others.  Which  us  better  ;  to  lay  open  a  new  sense,  to 
initiate  a  new  organ  for  the  human  spirit,  or  to  cultivate  many  types 
of  perfection  up  to  a  point  which  leaves  us  still  beyond  the  range 
of  their  transforming  power  ? 

Walter  Pater. 

Too  feeble  fall  the  impressions  of  nature  on  us  to  make  us 
artists.  Every  touch  should  thrill.  Every  man  should  be  so  muck 
an  artist  that  he  could  report  in  conversation  what  had  befallen 
him. 

Emerson. 


I 


KNTHWIK     ID    (.UlilNDS     dl'     \||.|\     l.\\|)i)U. 


I 


VI 

"IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS." 

It  came  into  him,  life  ;  it  went  out  from  him,  truth  ;  it  came  to 
him,  short-lived  actions  ;  it  went  out  from  him,  immortal  thoughts. 

Emerson. 

In  the  entire  range  of  English  literature  there  is 
nothing,  except  Shakespeare,  so  remarkable  in 
dramatic  realization  of  a  vast  range  of  widely 
opposite  and  widely  varying  characters  as  are  the 
''Imaginary  Conversations"  of  Landor.  It  was 
his  especial  design  not  to  allow  one  of  these  to 
contain  "  a  single  sentence  written  by,  or  recorded 
of  the  persons  who  are  supposed  to  hold  them," 
and  this  aim  was  absolutely  realized.  His  ideal 
was  to  so  entirely  grasp  and  absorb  into  him- 
self the  personality  of  each  character  chosen  as 
to  be  able  to  speak  with  the  voice  and  think  with 
the  mind  of  the  individuals  therein  presented. 
To  divine,  not  what  they  said,  but  what  they 
would  have  said,  on  a  great  variety  of  occasions 
and  over  a  gi-eat  range  of  topics,  w^as  the  task 
Landor   set  himself  to  achieve.     The  power  of 

221 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

dramatic  sympathy  to  enter  thus  mto  the  very 
penetralia  of  Hfe,  —  of  the  Hfe  of  this  numerous 
and  varied  assembly,  is  something  almost  beyond 
human  conception.  Landor's  "  Imaginary  Con- 
versations "  are  a  colossal  landmark  in  English 
literature.  Lowell  says  that,  with  the  single  ex- 
ception of  Shakespeare,  no  poet  has  furnished  so 
many  delicate  aphorisms  of  human  nature,  as  has 
Landor.  Their  complete  issue  fills  six  large  vol- 
umes which  dramatize  the  thought,  the  personal 
attitude  at  a  given  moment,  of  dozens  of  the 
most  marked  individualities  in  the  world,  over  a 
range  of  discussion  that  embraces  art,  philosophy, 
poetry,  ethics,  economics  and  history.  Not  only 
this,  but  the  conversations  hold  every  reader  who 
approaches  them  under  a  spell  of  genius  that  can- 
not be  analyzed  or  explained.  The  power  that 
could  successfully  portray  such  a  range  of  diverse 
characters  as  those  that  are  presented  in  these 
"  Dialogues,"  making  each  one  take  his  conversa- 
tional part  in  entire  keeping  with  his  own  indi- 
viduality and  in  true  relation  to  the  chronology, 
the  environment,  the  circumstances  of  the  time, 
is  hardly  less  marvellous  than  that  which  created 
the  dramas  of  Shakespeare.  The  characters  in 
these  "  Conversations "  are  representative  of  al- 

222 


"  IMAGIXxVRY   CONVERSATIONS  " 

most  every  country  and  every  age,  —  an  immense 
and  stately  procession  of  the  dominant  individu- 
alities of  the  most  diverse  character  and  aims. 
Rousseau  and  INIalesherbes  discuss  the  question 
as  to  whether  truth  is  the  object  of  philosophy, 
Malesherbes  asserting  that,  even  if  the  object  of 
philosophy,  it  is  not  of  philosophers.  "  jNly  opin- 
ion is,"  Landor  makes  him  say,  "  that  truth  is  not 
reasonably  the  main  and  ultimate  object  of  phi- 
losophy ;  but  that  philosophy  should  seek  truth 
merely  as  the  means  of  acquiring  and  of  propa- 
gating happiness.  Truths  are  simple ;  wisdom, 
which  is  formed  by  their  apposition  and  appli- 
cation, is  concrete :  out  of  this,  in  its  vast 
varieties,  open  to  our  wants  and  wishes,  comes 
happiness.  But  the  knowledge  of  all  the  truths 
ever  yet  discovered  does  not  lead  immediately 
to  it,  nor  indeed  will  ever  reach  it,  unless  you 
make  the  more  important  of  them  bear  upon 
your  heart  and  intellect,  and  form,  as  it  were, 
the  blood  that  moves  and  nurtures  them." 

Rousseau  is  still  unconvinced.  "  I  never  en- 
tertained a  doubt  until  now,"  he  rejoins,  "  that 
truth  is  the  ultimate  aim  and  object  of  philos- 
ophy :  no  A\Titer  has  denied  it,  I  think." 

Malesherbes  concedes  that  none  may :  "  but 

223 


THE  FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

when  it  is  agreed,"  he  continues,  "  that  happiness 
is  the  chief  good,  it  must  also  be  i^.greed  that  the 
chief  wisdom  will  pursue  it;  and  I  have  already 
said,  what  your  own  experience  cannot  but  have 
pointed  out  to  you,  that  no  truth,  or  series  of 
truths,  hypothetically,  can  communicate  or  at- 
tain it.  Come,  M.  Rousseau,  tell  me  candidly, 
do  you  derive  no  pleasure  from  a  sense  of  supe- 
riority in  genius  and  independence  ? " 

"  The  highest,"  admits  Rousseau,  "  from  a  con- 
sciousness of  independence." 

Gaining  this  admission  Malesherbes  proceeds  : 
"  Ingenuous  is  the  epithet  we  affix  to  modesty, 
but  modesty  often  makes  men  act  otherwise  than 
ingenuously :  you,  for  example,  now.  You  are 
angry  at  the  servility  of  people,  and  disgusted  at 
their  obtuseness  and  indifference,  on  matters  of 
most  import  to  their  welfare.  If  they  were  equal 
to  you,''  this  anger  would  cease  ;  but  the  fire 
would  break  out  somewhere  else,  on  ground 
which  appears  at  present  sound  and  level.  Vol- 
taire, for  instance,  is  less  eloquent  than  you  :  but 
Voltaire  is  wittier  than  any  man  living.  This 
quality  —  "  "  Is  the  quality  of  a  buffoon  and  a 
courtier,"  Rousseau  interrupts  him  by  saying ; 
**  but  the  buffoon  should  have  most  of  it,"  char- 

224 


"  IxMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS  " 

acteristically  adds  Rousseau,  "  to  support  liis 
higher  dignity." 

Malesherbes  observes  that  Voltaire's  dignity 
is  Attic,  and  Rousseau  rejoins :  *'  If  malignity 
is  Attic.  Petulance  is  not  wit,  although  a  few 
grains  of  wit  may  be  found  in  petulance :  quartz 
is  not  gold,  although  a  few  grains  of  gold  may  be 
found  in  quartz." 

Between  xVnne  Boleyn  and  Henry  VIII  what 
an  entirely  different  world  of  thought  and  feeling 
is  entered  by  Landor  and  portrayed  in  their  con- 
versation. 

"  I  do  not  regret  that  I  have  been  a  queen  and 
am  no  longer  one,"  we  find  Anne  saying  ;  "  nor 
that  my  innocence  is  called  in  question  by  those 
who  never  knew  me  ;  but  I  lament  that  the  good 
people  who  loved  me  so  cordially,  hate  and  curse 
me  ;  that  those  who  pointed  me  out  to  tlieir 
daughters  for  imitation  check  them  when  they 
speak  about  me ;  and  that  he  whom  next  to 
God  I  have  served  with  most  devotion  is  my 
accuser." 

One  of  the  most  charming  of  these  "  Conver- 
sations "  is  that  between  "  Boccaccio  and  Pe- 
trarca,"  in  which  the  author  of  the  "  Decameron  " 
accosts  the  poet  and  assures  him  that  there  is  no 

15  225 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

doubt  but  that,  if  he  could  remain  in  Italy,  he 
would  soon  receive  the  same  distinctions  as  in 
his  native  country.  *'  For  greatly  are  the  Flo- 
rentines ashamed,"  Boccaccio  continues,  "  that 
the  most  elegant  of  their  writers  and  the  most 
independent  of  their  citizens  lives  in  exile,  by 
the  injustice  he  had  suffered  in  the  detriment 
done  to  his  property,  through  the  intemperate 
adminstration  of  their  laws." 

"Let  them  recall  me  soon  and  honorably," 
vehemently  replies  Petrarca ;  "  then  perhaps  I 
may  assist  them  to  remove  their  ignominy,  which 
I  carry  about  with  me  wherever  I  go,*  and  which 
is  pointed  out  by  my  exotic  laurel." 

Boccaccio  rejoins  that  "there  is,  and  ever  will 
be,  in  all  countries  and  under  all  governments, 
an  ostracism  for  their  greatest  men." 

Petrarca  impatiently  ignores  this.  "  At  pres- 
ent we  will  talk  no  more  about  it,"  he  says  ;  "  to- 
morrow I  pursue  my  journey  towards  Padua, 
where  I  am  expected ;  where  some  few  value 
and  esteem  me,  honest  and  learned  and  ingenious 
men  ;  although  neither  those  Transpadane  re- 
gions, nor  whatever  extends  beyond  them,  have 
yet  produced  an  equal  to  Boccaccio." 

Boccaccio  begs  him,  in  the  name  of  friendship, 

226 


"IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS" 

not  to  go  ;  ''form  such  friends  rather  from  your 
fellow-citizens,"  he  urges.  "  I  love  my  equals 
heartily ;  and  shall  love  them  the  better  when  I 
see  them  raised  up  here,  from  our  own  mother 
earth,  by  you." 

Boccaccio  alludes  to  his  house,  and  Petrarca 
rejoins :  — 

"The  house  has  nothing  of  either  the  rustic 
or  the  magnificent  about  it ;  nothing  quite  reg- 
ular, nothing  much  varied.  If  there  is  any- 
thing at  all  affecting,  as  I  fear  there  is,  in  the 
story  you  are  about  to  tell  me,  I  could  wish  the 
edifice  itself  bore  externally  some  little  of  the  in- 
teresting that  I  might  hereafter  turn  my  mind 
toward  it,  looking  out  of  the  catastrophe,  though 
not  away  from  it.  But  I  do  not  even  find  the 
peculiar  and  uncostly  decoration  of  our  Tuscan 
villas,  —  the  central  turret,  round  which  the  kite 
perpetually  circles  in  search  of  pigeons  or  smaller 
prey,  borne  onward,  like  the  Flemish  skater,  by 
effortless  will  in  motionless  progression.  The 
view  of  Fiesole  must  be  lovely  from  that 
window ;  but  I  fancy  to  myself  it  loses  the  ^ 
cascade  under  the  single  high  arch  of  the 
INIugnone." 

227 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

To  which  Boccaccio  raphes  :  — 

"  I  think  so.  In  this  villa — come  rather  fur- 
ther off:  the  inhabitants  of  it  may  hear  us,  if 
they  should  happen  to  be  in  the  arbour,  as  most 
people  are  at  the  present  hour  of  day  —  in  this 
villa,  Messer  Francesco,  lives  JNIonna  Tita  Mon- 
alda,  who  tenderly  loved  Amadeo  degi  Oricellari." 

In  the  famous  "  Conversation  "  between  Sou- 
they  and  Porson  in  which  occurred  the  criticism 
of  Wordsworth,  Southey  is  represented  as  saying: 

"  Hitherto  our  sentiments  on  poetry  have  been 
delivered  down  to  us  from  authority ;  and  if  it 
can  be  demonstrated,  as  I  think  it  may  be,  that 
the  authority  is  inadequate,  and  that  the  dictates 
are  often  inapplicable  and  often  misinterpreted, 
you  will  allow  me  to  remove  the  cause  out  of 
court.  Every  man  can  see  what  is  very  bad  in  a 
poem ;  almost  every  one  can  see  what  is  very 
good :  but  you,  Mr.  Porson,  who  have  turned 
over  all  the  volumes  of  all  the  commentators, 
will  inform  me  whether  I  am  right  or  wrong  in 
asserting  that  no  critic  hath  yet  appeared  who 
hath  been  able  to  fix  or  to  discern  the  exact  de- 
grees of  excellence  above  a  certain  point." 

228 


"  IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS  " 

"  None,"  tersely  replies  Porson. 

"  The  reason  is,"  rejoined  Southey,  "  because 
the  eyes  of  no  one  have  been  upon  a  level  with 
it.  Supposing,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  the 
contest  of  Hesiod  and  Homer  to  have  taken 
place :  the  judges  who  decided  in  favour  of  the 
worse,  and  he,  indeed,  in  the  poetry  has  little 
merit,  may  have  been  elegant,  wise,  and  con- 
scientious men.  Their  decision  was  in  favour  of 
that  to  the  species  of  which  they  had  been  the 
most  accustomed.  Corinna  was  preferred  to 
Pindar  no  fewer  than  five  times,  and  the  best 
judges  in  Greece  gave  her  the  preference  ;  yet 
whatever  were  her  powers,  and  beyond  a  ques- 
tion they  were  extraordinary,  we  may  assure 
ourselves  that  she  stood  many  degrees  below 
Pindar." 

Petrarca  and  Boccaccio  were  highly  esteemed 
by  Landor,  who  did  not  sympathize  with  Lord 
Chesterfield  in  his  opinion  that  the  former  de- 
served his  Laura  better  than  his  lauro.  The  best 
evidence  of  this  predilection  is  Landor's  great 
work,  "  The  Pentameron,"  second  only  to  his 
greatest,  "  Pericles  and  Aspasia."  Its  couleur 
locale  is  marvellous.     On  every  page  there  is  a 

229 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

glimpse  of  cloudless  blue  sky,  a  breath  of  warm 
sunny  air,  a  sketch  of  Italian  manner.  The  mas- 
terly gusto  with  which  the  author  enters  into  the 
spirit  of  Italy  would  make  us  believe  him  to  be 
*'  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all,"  had  he  not 
proved  himself  a  better  Grecian.  Margaret  Ful- 
ler realized  this  when,  after  comparing  the  "  Pen- 
tameron  "  and  "  Petrarca  "  together,  she  wrote  : 
"  I  find  the  prose  of  the  Englishman  worthy  of  the 
verse  of  the  Italian.  It  is  a  happiness  to  see  such 
marble  beauty  in  the  halls  of  a  contemporary." 

In  "  Pericles  and  Aspasia  "  one  finds  the  keen- 
est epigrammatic  expression  of  Landor,  as  in  such 
lines  as  these :  — 

"  Like  the  ocean,  love  embraces  the  earth  ;  and 
by  love,  as  by  the  ocean,  whatever  is  sordid  and 
unsound  is  borne  away." 

"  It  is  a  casket  not  precious  in  itself,  but  val- 
uable in  proportion  to  what  fortune,  or  industry, 
or  virtue,  has  placed  within  it." 

"  Some  tell  us  that  there  were  twenty  Homers, 
some  deny  that  there  was  ever  one.  We  are  per- 
petually laboring  to  destroy  our  delight,  our  com- 

230 


"IMAGINARY  CONVERSATIONS  " 

posure,  our  devotion  to  superior  power.  Of  all  the 
animals  upon  earth,  we  least  know  what  is  good 
for  us.  JMy  opinion  is,  that  what  is  best  for  us 
is  our  admiration  of  good.  No  man  Hvi ng  vene- 
rates Homer  more  than  I  do." 

The  nobility  of  the  counsel  which  Landor 
was  able  to  offer  is  impressively  revealed  in 
the  following  paragi'aph  from  the  "  Pericles  and 
Aspasia : "  — 

'*  If  any  young  man  would  win  to  himself  the 
hearts  of  the  wise  and  brave,  and  is  ambitious  of 
being  the  guide  and  leader  of  them,  let  him  be 
assured  that  his  virtue  will  give  him  power  and 
power  will  consolidate  and  maintain  his  virtue. 
Let  him  never  then  squander  away  the  inesti- 
mable hours  of  youth  in  tangled  and  trifling  dis- 
quisitions with  such  as  perhaps  have  an  interest 
in  perverting  or  unsettling  his  opinions.  But  let 
him  start  from  them  with  alacrity,  and  walk  forth 
with  firmness :  let  him  early  take  an  interest  in 
the  business  and  concerns  of  men  ;  and  let  him,  as 
he  goes  along,  look  steadfastly  at  the  images  of 
those  who  have  benefited  his  country  and  make 
with  himself  a  solemn  compact  to  stand  hereafter 
among  them." 

231 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Again  we  find  :  — 

"  But  take  care  to  offend  no  philosopher  of  any 
sect  whatever.  Indeed  to  offend  any  person  is 
the  next  fooHsh  thing  to  being  offended.  I  never 
do  it  unless  when  it  is  requisite  to  discredit  some- 
body who  might  otherwise  have  the  influence  to 
diminish  my  estimation.  Politeness  is  not  always 
a  sign  of  wisdom,  but  the  want  of  it  always  leaves 
room  for  suspicion  of  folly,  if  folly  and  impru- 
dence are  the  same." 

Regarding  art,  we  find  Landor  saying :  — 

"  Sculpture  and  painting  are  moments  of  life : 
poetry  is  life  itself,  and  everything  around  it  and 
above  it. ' 

And  of  poetry  he  also  says :  — 

"  No  writer  of  florid  prose  ever  was  more  than  a 
secondary  poet.  Poetry  in  her  high  estate  is  de- 
lighted with  exuberant  abundance,  but  imposes 
on  her  worshipper  a  severity  of  selection.  She 
has  not  only  her  days  of  festival,  but  also  her 
days  of  abstinence  and,  unless  on  some  that  are 
set  apart,  prefers  the  graces  of  sedateness  to  the 
revelry  of  enthusiasm.     She  rejects,  as  inharmo- 

232 


« IMAGINARY  CONVERSATIONS  " 

nious  and  barbarous,  the  mimicry  of  her  voice 
and  manner  by  obstreperous  sophists,  and  argute 
grammarians,  and  she  scatters  to  the  winds  the 
loose  fragments  of  the  schools." 

In  an  impassioned  paragraph  Landor  writes  :  — 

"  O  Pericles  I  how  wrong  are  all  who  do  not 
forever  follow  love,  under  one  form  or  other  I 
There  is  no  god  but  he,  the  framer,  the  preserver 
of  the  world,  the  pure  intelligence  I  All  wisdom 
that  is  not  enlightened  and  guided  by  him,  is  per- 
turbed and  perverted.  .  .  .  The  happy  never  say, 
and  never  hear  said,  farewell." 

The  dialogue  between  Vittoria  Colonna  and 
Michael  Angelo  offers  such  paragraphs  as  these  : 

"  The  beautiful  in  itself  is  useful  by  awaking 
our  finer  sensibilities,  which  it  must  be  our  own 
fault  if  we  do  not  often  carry  with  us  into  action. 
A  well-ordered  mind  touches  no  branch  of  intel- 
lectual pleasure  so  brittle  and  incompliant  as  never 
to  be  turned  to  profit." 

And  again :  — 

"  Homer  left  a  highway,  over-shadowed  with 
lofty  trees  and  peremiial  leafage,  between  the  re- 

233 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

gions  of  Allegory  and  Olympus.  The  gloom  of 
Dante  is  deeper,  and  the  boundaries  even  more 
indiscernible.  We  know  the  one  is  censured  for 
it ;  perhaps  the  other  was." 

Regarding  greatness,  Vittoria  is  represented  as 
saying ;  — 

"  There  are  various  kinds  of  greatness,  as  we 
all  know ;  however,  the  most  part  of  those  who 
profess  one  species  is  ready  to  acknowledge  no 
other.  The  first  and  chief  is  intellectual.  But 
surely  those  also  are  to  be  admitted  into  the  num- 
ber of  the  eminently  great,  who  move  large  masses 
by  action,  by  throwing  their  own  ardent  minds 
into  the  midst  of  popular  assemblies  or  conflict- 
ing armies,  compelling,  directing,  and  subjecting. 
This  greatness  is  indeed  far  from  so  desirable  as 
that  which  shines  serenely  from  above,  to  be  our 
hope,  comfort,  and  guidance  :  to  lead  us  in  spirit 
from  a  world  of  sad  realities  into  one  fresh  from 
the  poet's  hand,  and  blooming  with  all  the  variety 
of  his  creation.  Hence  the  most  successful  gen- 
erals, and  the  most  powerful  kings  will  always  be 
considered  by  the  judicious  and  dispassionate  as 
invested  with  less  dignity,  less  extensive  and  en- 

234 


"  IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS" 

during  authority  than  great  philosophers  and  great 
poets." 

One  of  those  keen  aphorisms  in  which  Landor 
abounds  is  thus  expressed  :  — 

*'  Little  men,  like  little  birds,  are  always  at- 
tracted and  caught  by  false  lights." 

Landor's  appreciation  of  Shakespeare  was  fine 
and  profound.  "  A  gi-eat  poet  represents  a  great 
portion  of  the  human  race,"  he  said.  "  Nature 
delegated  to  Shakespeare  the  interests  and  du-ec- 
tion  of  the  whole." 

In  the  context  Landor  added  that  "  to  IVIilton 
was  given  a  smaller  part,  but  with  plenary  power 
over  it,  and  such  fervor  and  majesty  of  eloquence 
was  bestowed  on  him  as  on  no  other  moi-tal  in 
any  age." 

The  mental  processes  of  Landor  in  poetic 
creation  and  also  in  the  construction  of  the 
"  Imaginary  Conversations,"  invite  attention.  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  once  scraped  a  painting  by 
Titian  in  an  endeavor  to  learn  the  secret  of  his 
coloring ;  the  critical  reader  of  I^andor  cannot 
but  long  to  find  an  equally  intimate  approach  to 
the  structural  quality  of  his  work.     In  a  letter 

235 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

written  to  John  Forsterin  October  of  1838,  Lan- 
dor  himself  refers  to  his  creative  processes  as 
follows :  — 

"...  On  Sunday  I  began  a  drama  on  Gio- 
vanna  di  Napoli  (God  defend  us  from  the  horrid 
sound,  Joan  of  Naples  I ),  and  before  I  rose 
from  my  bed  on  Monday  morning,  1  had  written 
above  a  hundred  and  seventy  verses,  as  good  as 
any  I  ever  wrote  in  my  life,  excepting  my 
*  Death  of  Clytemnestra.'  Of  course  I  slept  little. 
In  fact,  I  scarcely  sleep  at  all  by  night,  while  the 
people  of  my  brain  are  talking.  While  others 
are  drinking  I  doze  and  dream.  .  .  . 

"...  It  is  odd  enough  that  I  had  written  a 
good  many  scraps  of  two  '  Imaginary  Conversa- 
tions '  in  which  Giovanna  is  a  speaker ;  but  I 
cannot  remember  a  syllable  of  them,  nor  would 
they  do.  She  and  Vittoria  Colonna  are  my 
favorites  among  the  women  of  Italy,  as  Boc- 
caccio and  Petrarca  are  among  the  men.  But, 
to  have  clear  perceptions  of  women,  to  elicit 
their  thoughts,  and  hear  their  voices  to  advantage, 
I  must  be  in  the  open  air,  in  the  sun  —  alas,  in 
Italy,  were  it  possible,  my  sprained  ankle  will 
not  let  me  take  my  long  and  rapid  strides.     I 

236 


"  IMAGINARY  CONVERSATIONS  " 

am  an  artificial  man.  I  want  all  these  helps  for 
poetry.  Quiet  and  silent  nights  are  the  next 
things  needful." 

Of  the  creation  of  his  tragedy,  "  Andrea  of 
Hungary,"  Landor  writes  that  it  was  "  conceived, 
planned,  and  executed  in  thirteen  days ;  tran- 
scribed (the  worst  of  the  business)  in  six.  Any 
man,  I  am  now  convinced,"  he  continues,  "  may 
write  a  dozen  such  within  the  year.  The  worst  of 
it  is,  in  anything  dramatic,  such  is  the  rapidity  of 
passion  the  words  escape  before  they  can  be 
taken  down.  If  you  lose  one  you  lose  the  tone 
of  the  person  and  never  can  recover  it.  .  .  . 
And  the  action  is  gone  too.  You  have  a  dead 
man  before  you  —  but  galvanized." 

The  "  Imaginary  Conversation "  between 
Southey  and  Porson  first  appeared  (in  1823)  in 
the  "  London  IMagazine."  The  Dialogue  that 
has  Elizabeth  and  Burleigh  for  its  speakers, 
has  been  called  "  a  masterpiece  of  humor  and 
character."  In  all,  Landor  ^\Tote  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  of  these  "  Conversations."  John 
Forster,  commenting  on  them,  remarks  that 
it  is  their  "  unity  in  the  astonishing  variety, 
the    fire    of    an   irrepressible    genius    running 

237 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

through  the  whole,"  that  gives  to  them  a  place 
among  books  not  likely  to  pass  away.  JNIr. 
Forster  adds :  — 

"  The  intensity  and  the  range  of  mental  power 
sufficiently  declare  themselves.  There  is  scarcely 
a  form  of  the  human  mind,  serious  or  sprightly, 
imaginative,  historical,  fanciful,  or  real,  which 
has  not  been  brought  into  play  in  this  extraor- 
dinary series  of  writings.  When  Emerson  had 
made  the  book  his  companion  for  more  than 
twenty  years,  he  publicly  expressed  to  Landor 
his  gratitude  for  having  given  him  a  resource 
that  had  never  failed  him  in  solitude.  He  had 
but  to  turn  to  its  rich  and  ample  page  to  find 
always  free  and  sustained  thought,  a  keen  and 
precise  understanding,  an  industrious  observation 
in  every  department  of  life,  an  experience  to 
which  it  might  seem  that  nothing  had  occurred 
in  vain,  honor  for  every  just  and  generous  senti- 
ment, and  a  scourge  like  that  of  the  Furies  for 
every  oppressor,  whether  public  or  private. 
Emerson  pronounced  Landor  to  be  one  of  the 
foremost  of  that  small  class  who  make  good 
in  the  nineteenth  century  the  claims  of  pure 
literature." 

238 


"  IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS  " 

Wordsworth  gave  high  appreciation  to  the 
"  Conversations "  and  wrote  to  Landor  saying, 
*'  Your  dialogues  are  worthy  of  you,  and  a  great 
acquisition  to  hterature." 

A  friend  of  Landor 's   expressed  surprise  one 
day   on   hearing    him  praise   Alfieri,  as  he  had 
seemed,  in  a  note  appended  to  the  *'  Conversa- 
tion between  GaHleo,  Milton,  and  a  Dominican," 
to  entertain  a  very  different  opinion  of  this  poet. 
Reading  the  note  refeiTcd  to,  Landor  seemed  to 
be  greatly  annoyed,  and  replied :  "  This  is  a  mis- 
take.    It  was   never   my  intention  to  condemn 
Alfieri  so  sweepingly  ; "  and  a  few  days  later  he 
made  the  following  correction  :  "  Keats,  in  whom 
the   spirit   of  poetry   w^as   stronger  than  in  any 
contemporary,  at  home  or  abroad,  delighted  in 
Hellenic    imagery    and    mythology,   displaying 
them  admirably  ;  but  no  poet  came  nearer  than 
Alfieri  to  the  heroic,   since  Virgil.      Disliking, 
as  I  do,    prefaces  and  annotations,  excrescences 
which  hang  loose  like  the  deciduous  bark  on  a 
plane-tree,  I  will  here  notice  an  omission  of  mine 
on   Alfieri,   in    the  '  Imaginary   Conversations.' 
The  words,  '  There  is  not  a  glimpse  of  poetry  in 
his  Tragedies,'  should  be,  as  wTitten,  *  There  is  not 
an  extraneous  glimpse,'  &c." 

239 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Later,  Landor  addressed  these  lines  to  Alfieri : 

"  Thou  art  present  in  my  sight. 
Though  far  removed  from  us,  for  thou  alone 
Hast  touched  the  inmost  fibres  of  the  breast, 
Since  Tasso's  tears  made  damper  the  damp  floor 
Whereon  one  only  light  came  through  the  bars,''  &c. ; 

thus  redeeming  the  former  note  that  misrepre- 
sented his  real  attitude  toward  the  Italian  poet. 
The  "  Imaginary  Conversations "  are  often 
brilliant  and  scintillating,  often  profound,  and 
almost  invariably  epigrammatic  in  expression. 
Even  as  late  in  his  life  as  January  of  1861, 
Landor  is  meditating  qn  another  "  Conversa- 
tion," —  one  between  Virgil  and  Horace  ;  and  this 
he  wrote  in  time  for  publication  that  spring  when 
it  appeared  in  the  Athengeum.  So  these  wonder- 
ful creations  range  over  all  times  and  topics. 
Garibaldi  and  Mazzini  discuss,  with  emphasis 
half  sad,  half  cynical,  French  honor  and  French 
veracity  ;  Tasso  and  Leonora  di  Esti  meet  and  she 
implores  her  unfortunate  lover  to  forget  her,  and 
dies  happy  with  his  assurance  that  he  never  can  ; 
Sophocles  and  Pericles  wander  in  Athens  and 
the  loyal  enthusiasm  of  Pericles  for  his  friend  is 
eloquently  expressed  ;  Washington  and  Franklin 
meet  and  discuss  the  free  spirit  of  American 

240 


« IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS  " 

institutions ;  Sir  Philip  Sidney  and  Greville  dis- 
cuss poetry  ;  Dante  and  Beatrice  meet,  and  Han- 
nibal and  Marcellus.  Alfieri  and  Salomon 
discuss  Galileo,  and  the  great  Italian  poet  says  ; 
"  Since  the  destruction  of  the  republic,  Florence 
has  produced  only  one  great  man,  Galileo,  and 
abandoned  him  to  every  indignity  that  fanaticism 
and  despotism  could  invent.  Extraordinary 
men,  like  the  stones  that  are  formed  in  the 
higher  regions  of  the  air,  fall  upon  the  earth  only 
to  be  broken  and  cast  into  the  furnace.  The 
precursor  of  Newton  Hved  in  the  deserts  of  the 
moral  world,  drank  water,  and  ate  locusts  and 
wild  honey.  It  was  fortunate  that  his  head  also 
was  not  lopped  off:  had  a  singer  asked  it,  instead 
of  a  dancer,  it  would  have  been." 

"  In  fact  «it  was,"  replies  Salomon :  "  for  the 
fruits  of  it  were  shaken  down  and  thro^vn  away  : 
he  was  forbidden  to  publish  the  most  important 
of  his  discoveries,  and  the  better  part  of  his 
manuscripts  was  burned  after  his  death." 

"  I  would  only  persuade  you,"  rejoins  Alfieri, 
"  that  banter,  pun,  and  quibble  are  the  properties 
of  light  men  and  shallow  capacities  ;  that  genuine 
humour  and  true  wit  require  a  sound  and  capa- 
cious mind,  which  is  always  a  gi-ave  one.     Con- 

16  241 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

temptuousness  is  not  incompatible  with  them : 
worthless  is  that  man  who  feels  no  contempt  for 
the  worthless,  and  weak  who  treats  their  empti- 
ness as  a  thing  of  weight.  At  first  it  may  seem 
a  paradox,  but  it  is  perfectly  true,  that  the 
gra^'est  nations  have  been  the  wittiest ;  and  in 
those  nations  some  of  the  gravest  men.  In  Eng- 
land, Swift  and  Addison,  in  Spain,  Cervantes. 
Rabelais  and  La  Fontaine  are  recorded  by  their 
countrymen  to  have  been  reveurs.  Few  men 
have  been  graver  than  Pascal ;  few  have  been 
wittier." 

Landor  represents  one  "  Conversation "  as 
taking  place  between  himself  and  Delille,  in 
which  he  expresses  his  own  views  on  poetry  in 
these  words  :  — 

"  In  poetry,  there  is  a  greater  difference  be- 
tween the  good  and  the  excellent  than  there  is 
between  the  bad  and  the  good.  Poetry  has  no 
golden  mean  ;  mediocrity  here  is  of  another  metal, 
which  Voltaire,  however,  had  skill  enough  to  en- 
crust and  polish.  In  the  least  wretched  of  his 
tragedies,  whatever  is  tolerable  is  Shakespeare's ; 
but,  gracious  Heaven  !  how  deteriorated  !  When 
he  pretends  to  extol  a  poet   he  chooses   some 

242 


"  IMAGINxVRY   CONVERSATIONS  " 

defective  part,  and  renders  it  more  so  whenever 
he  transhites  it.  1  will  repeat  a  few  verses  from 
Metastasio  in  support  of  my  assertion.  Metas- 
tasio  was  both  a  better  critic  and  a  better  poet, 
although  of  the  second  order  in  each  quality ; 
his  tyrants  are  less  philosophical,  and  his  chamber- 
maids less  dogmatic.  Voltaire  was,  however,  a 
man  of  abilities,  and  author  of  many  passable 
epigrams,  beside  those  which  are  contained  in 
his  tragedies  and  heroics  ;  yet  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that,  like  your  Parisian  lackeys,  they  are 
usually  the  smartest  when  out  of  place." 

To  which  Delille  says  in  reply  :  — 

"  What  you  call  epigram  gives  life  and  spirit 
to  grave  works,  and  seems  principally  wanted  to 
relieve  a  long  poem.  I  do  not  see  why  what 
pleases  us  in  a  star  should  not  please  us  in  a 
constellation." 

These  "  Conversations "  offer  the  most  re- 
markably wide  range  of  intellectual  interest ; 
they  are  often  choice  in  quality ;  they  are  of  an 
order  of  literature  which  has  impressed  the  criti- 
cal mind  profoundly,  and  the  mind  of  the  general 
reader  very  slightly.     For  one  of  the  really  great 

243 


THE  FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

authors,  Landor's  work  is  curiously  unfamiliar 
to  a  lai'ge  proportion  of  even  very  cultivated 
readers,  —  those  whose  impressions  and  opinions 
are  on  no  account  to  be  ruled  out  as  having  no 
value.  While  literature  is  by  no  means  without 
its  grave  faults  of  cheap  popularity  that  some- 
times obscures  high  excellence,  yet  popularity, 
in  the  sense  of  a  very  wide  and  warm  recogni- 
tion, is  not  to  be  despised.  The  power  to 
touch  the  popular  mind  is  the  first  element  of 
that  universality  which  pre-determines  greatness. 
It  is  the  power  to  generate  a  living  energy,  the 
power  to  communicate  vital  truth  in  a  man- 
ner so  sympathetic,  so  swift  in  its  recognition 
of  the  spiritual  nature,  as  to  be  able  to  touch 
and  arouse  and  inspire  all  that  is  noblest  in 
humanity.  Landor  was  a  poet  for  poets.  He 
was  a  classicist  for  classic  scholars ;  but  an 
author's  true  greatness  can  only  be  measured  by 
the  degree  in  which  he  enters  into  sympathy 
with  the  force  and  the  mass  of  human  character. 
It  can  only  be  measured  by  the  comprehensive- 
ness of  his  grasp,  the  breadth  of  his  sympathies, 
the  capacity  to  love  men  that  he  may  thereby 
help  them.  The  author  who  is  worthy  to  be 
classed  among  the  immortals  is  he  who  touches 

244 


"  IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS  " 

life  with  spiritual  power.  The  great  fact  in  life 
is  its  divine  destiny,  and  he  is  greatest  of  all  who 
most  significantly  and  sympathetically  interprets 
and  illuminates  this  destiny. 

However  superior  in  quality  may  be  the 
"saving  remnant,"  it  is  yet  more  profoundly 
true  that  real  greatness  lies  in  the  more  universal 
appeal ;  in  the  possession  of  that  marvellous 
power  of  vital  imagination  which  conceives  of 
life  in  its  wholeness.  Far  greater  than  literature 
is  life. 

"  It  may  be  glorious  to  write 
Thoughts  that  shall  glad  the  two  or  three 
High  souls,  like  those  far  stars  that  come  in  sight 
Once  in  a  century  ; 

"  But  better  far  it  is  to  speak 
One  simple  word  which,  now  and  then. 
Shall  waken  their  free  natures  in  the  weak 
And  friendless  sons  of  men." 


It  is  not,  therefore,  the  fact  that  Landor's  au- 
dience was  few  though  fit,  —  that  his  appeal  is 
to  the  more  highly  cultured  rather  than  to  all 
humanity,  —  which  is  recorded  to  its  credit.  On 
the  contrary,  it  is  here  that  his  defects  and 
failures  lie.     No  man,  no  author,  is  truly  great 

245 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

until  his  entire  intellectual  life  is  fused  with  his 
moral  life ;  until  every  gift  and  grace  is  trans- 
figured into  that  spirituality  that  gives  freely  of 
love  and  sympathy  to  all ;  that  is  filled  with  all 
high  interests  and  is  characterized  by  forgetful- 
ness  of  self  and  remembrance  of  others.  These 
are  lessons  that  awaited  Walter  Savage  Landor 
farther  on  in  the  processes  of  unfoldment  after 
leaving  this  world  for  the  life  more  abundant. 
Yet  that  great  thoughts  were  his  daily  food,  is 
true :  and  his  undisciplined  temper,  violent  and 
unreasonable  as  were  often  its  manifestations, 
still  never  degenerated  into  any  petty  meanness, 
or  any  lasting  malevolence.  "  Humanity  at  best 
is  weak  and  can  only  be  divine  by  flashes,"  said 
Kate  Field  of  Landor,  in  writing  of  his  last  days, 
and  she  added  :  "  The  Pythia  was  a  stupid  old 
woman,  saving  when  she  sat  upon  the  tripod. 
Seeing  genius  to  the  best  advantage  in  its  work, 
—  not  always  but  most  frequently,  —  they  are 
wisest  who  love  the  artist  without  demanding 
personal  perfection.  It  is  rational  to  conclude 
that  the  loftiest  possible  genius  should  be  alhed 
to  the  most  perfect  specimen  of  man,  heart  hold- 
ing equal  sway  with  head.  A  great  man,  how- 
ever,  need   not  be  a  great  artist,  —  that  is,  of 

246 


"IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS' 

course,  understood ;  but  time  ought  to  prove 
that  the  higliest  form  of  art  can  only  emanate 
from  the  noblest  type  of  humanity.  The  most 
glorious  inspirations  must  flow  through  the 
purest  channels.  But  this  is  the  genius  of  the 
future,  as  far  removed  from  what  is  best  known 
as  order  is  removed  from  chaos." 

So  swift  has  been  the  march  of  ethical  ideals 
that  what  appeared  in  the  latter  quarter  of  the 
nineteenth  century  as  the  vision  of  the  future  is 
almost,  in  these  early  years  of  the  twentieth 
century,  the  practical  working  ideal  of  to-day. 

The  early  literary  experience  of  Landor  was 
steeped  in  no  little  stress  and  storm,  although 
largely,  it  is  true,  these  tumults  were  of  his  o>\ti 
creation.  "  Landor 's  characteristic  fault,"  writes 
Kate  Field,  "  was  that  of  a  temper  so  undisci- 
plined and  impulsive  as  to  be  somewhat  hum- 
canic  in  its  consequences,  though  not  unlike  the 
Australian  boomerang,  it  frequently  returned 
whence  it  came,  and  injured  no  one  but  the 
possessor.  Circumstances  aggravated,  rather 
than  diminished,  this  Landorian  idiosyncrasy. 
Born  in  prosperity,  heir  to  a  large  landed  estate, 
and  educated  in  aristocratic  traditions,  A V alter 
Savage  Landor  began  life  without  a  struggle, 

247 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

and  throughout  a  long  career  remained  master 
of  the  situation,  independent  of  the  world  and 
its  favors.  Perhaps  too  much  freedom  is  as 
unfortunate  in  its  results  upon  character  as  too 
much  dependence.  A  nature  to  be  properly 
developed  should  receive  as  well  as  give." 

It  is  true,   however,   that  with  all   his  vehe- 
mence, his  impatience,  and  his  impetuosity,  Lan- 
dor  united  great  courtesy,  great  gentleness,  and 
tenderness  of  heart.     Edward   Dowden  says  of 
him  that  the  times  "  when  other  men  would  be 
incapacitated  by  tremulous    hand  or  throbbing 
brow  for  pure  and  free  imagining  and   delicate 
manipulation,    were    precisely    the     productive 
periods  with  Landor.     Not  that  he  transmuted 
his  dross  of  life  into  gold  of  art,  or  taught  in  song 
what  he  had  learnt  in  suffering  ;  rather,  he  would 
listen  to  no  lessons  of  suffering,  but  escaped  from 
them  into  the  arms  of  joy.    Among  these  apparent 
inconsistencies  of  Landor's  character  that  one  is 
especially  noteworthy  which  is  indicated  by  the 
presence  of  so  much  disorder  and  disproportion 
in  his   conduct  of  life   (if  conduct   it   can  be 
called),  and  in  the  opinions  and  sentiments  ex- 
pressed in  not  a  little  of  what  he  wrote,  and  the 
presence  of  so  much  order,  proportion,  and  har- 

248 


"  IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS  " 

mony  in  the  form  of  his  artistic  products  —  so 
much  austere  strength  in  some,  so  mucli  beauty 
in  others,  which  would  be  recognised  as  severe 
if  it  were  not  so  absolutely  beautiful."  It  was 
in  such  an  hour  as  this  that  he  wrote  the 
stanza :  — 

'*  I  strove  with  none  ;  for  none  was  worth  my  strife, 
Nature  I  loved,  and  after  Nature,  Art ; 
I  warmed  both  hands  before  the  fire  of  Hfe, 
It  sinks,  and  I  am  ready  to  depart." 

Although  Landor's  work  appeals  to  the  few 
rather  than  to  the  many,  he  was  yet  an  ardent 
lover  of  liberty,  an  intense  sympathizer  with 
the  larger  life  and  greater  opportunities  for  the 
people.  In  his  admiration  for  Garibaldi,  Maz- 
zini,  Cavour,  and  Kossuth,  he  was  fairly  a  hero 
worshipper.  His  "  Imaginary  Conversation  "  be- 
tween Savonarola  and  the  Prior  of  Florence 
was  written  with  the  object  of  devoting  its  pro- 
ceeds to  the  aid  of  Garibaldi's  troops.  Those 
who  have  cared  for  Landor,  however,  make  up 
in  zeal  what  they  lack  in  numbers.  Words- 
worth, Lamb,  Southey,  and  Shelley  spoke  and 
wrote  of  him  with  the  utmost  enthusiasm.  Mrs. 
Browning  declared  that  if  it  were  not  for  the 
necessity  of  getting  through  a  book,  some  of  the 

249 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

pages  of  the  "  Pentameron  "  were  too  delicious 
to  turn  over. 

Swinburne  pronounces  on  Landor  an  incom- 
parable  verdict.     "In   the   course   of  his   long 
life,"  writes  the  younger  poet  of  the  elder,  "  he 
had  won  for  himself  such  a  crown  of  glory  in 
verse  and  in  prose  as  has  been  won  by  no  other 
Englishman  but  Milton."     As  a  poet,  Mr.  Swin- 
burne assigns  to  Landor  a  place  between  Byron 
and  Shelley,  "  as  far  above  the  former  as  below 
the  latter,"  and  he  adds :  "  If  we  except  Catullus 
and  Simonides,  it  might  be  hard  to  match,  and 
it  would  be  impossible  to  over-match,  the  flaw- 
less  and    blameless,  yet    living    and    breathing 
beauty  of  his  most  perfect  elegies,  epigrams,  and 
epitaphs.   .   .   .   His   passionate   compassion,   his 
bitter  and  burning  pity  for  all  wrongs  endured 
in  all  the  world  found  only  their  natural  outlet 
in  his  lifelong  defence  of  tyrannicide  as  the  last 
resource  of  baffled  justice,  the  last  discharge  of 
heroic  duty.  .  .  .  He  was  surely  the  most  gentle 
and  generous,  as  the  most  headstrong  and  hot- 
headed of  heroes  or  of  men.     Nor  ever  was  any 
man's  best  work  more  thoroughly  imbued  and 
informed  with  evidence  of  his  noblest  quahties. 
His    loyalty   and   liberality    of    heart  were    as 

250 


« IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS  " 

inexhaustible  as  his  bounty  and  beneficence  of 
hand." 

Turning  from  his  personal  character  to  his 
work,  INlr.  Swinburne  finely  says :  "  On  either 
side,  immediately  or  hardly  below  his  mighty 
masterpiece  of  '  Pericles  and  Aspasia,'  stand  the 
two  scarcely  less  beautiful  and  vivid  studies  of 
mediaeval  Italy  and  Shakespearean  England.  The 
very  finest  flower  of  his  immortal  dialogues  is 
probably  to  be  found  in  the  '  Imaginary  Con- 
versations of  Greeks  and  Romans ; '  his  utmost 
command  of  passion  and  pathos  may  be  tested 
by  their  transcendent  success  in  the  distilled  and 
concentrated  tragedy  of  '  Tiberius  and  Virginia,' 
where  for  once  he  shows  a  quality  more  proper 
to  romantic  than  classical  imagination,  —  the 
subtle  and  sublime  and  terrible  power  to  enter 
the  dark  vestibule  of  distraction,  to  throw  the 
whole  force  of  his  fancy,  the  whole  fire  of  his 
spirit  into  the  shadowing  passion  (as  Shakespeare 
calls  it)  of  gi'adually  imminent  insanity.  " 

Of  the  "  Conversation "  wherein  Cicero  is 
introduced,  John  Forster,  Landor's  biographer, 
finely  says:  — 

"  It  would  nevertheless  be  difficult,  filled  as  it 
is  with  sayings  Ciceronian,  to  exhibit  their  im- 

251 


THE  FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

pressiveness  by  extracting  even  the  best  of  them. 
The  conversation  is  so  infinitely  better  than  any- 
thing that  can  be  taken  from  it.  It  unfolds 
itself  in  such  fine  gradations  as  the  brothers 
walk  along  the  shore,  their  thoughts  toned  and 
tempered  by  skyey  influences,  and  their  spirits 
drawn  nearer  not  more  by  conscious  remem- 
brance of  the  past  than  by  that  dim  foreboding 
of  some  coming  change,  the  forecast  of  a  final 
quiet  to  which  both  are  drawing  near,  which  so 
often  accompanies  the  approach  of  death.  The 
very  mildness  of  the  winter  evening,  with  a 
softness  in  its  moist,  still  air  allied  to  the  gentle- 
ness of  sorrow,  plays  its  part  in  the  dialogue. 
As  they  retrace  their  steps,  the  purple  light  that 
had  invested  the  cliffs  and  shore  has  faded  off, 
and  the  night  quite  suddenly  closes  in ;  of  the 
promontories,  the  long,  irregular  breakers  under 
them,  the  little  solitary  Circaean  hill,  the  neigh- 
boring whiter  rocks  of  Anxur,  the  spot  where 
the  mother  of  the  Gracchi  lived,  nothing  further 
is  discernible  ;  all  the  nobleness  of  the  surround- 
ing or  the  far-off  landscape,  recalling  scenes  of 
friendship  and  recollections  of  greatness,  has 
passed  away ;  they  see  now  but  the  darkness  of 
the  ignoble  present,  and  as,  on  reaching  home, 

252 


"  IMAGINARY   CONVERSxVTIONS  " 

they  notice  the  servants  lighting  the  lamps  in 
the  villa  and  making  preparation  for  the  birth- 
day on  the  morrow,  the  thought  at  length  con- 
sciously arises  to  Marcus  whether  that  coming 
birthday,  least  pleasurable  to  him  as  it  must  be, 
may  not  also  be  his  last.  " 

Like  Emerson,  Landor  was  accustomed  to 
compose  in  the  open  air.  In  one  of  his  "  Con- 
versations "  he  represents  Epicurus  as  saying  : 

"  I  assemble  and  arrange  my  thoughts,  with 
freedom  and  with  pleasure  in  the  fresh  air  and 
open  sky ;  and  they  are  more  lively  and  vigorous 
and  exuberant  when  I  catch  them  as  I  walk  about 
and  commune  with  them  in  silence  and  seclusion." 

And  of  himself  Landor  once  said ;  "  It  is  my 
practice,  and  ever  has  been,  to  walk  quite  alone. 
In  my  walks  I  collect  my  arguments,  arrange  my 
sentences,  and  utter  them  aloud.  Eloquence 
with  me  can  do  little  else  in  the  city  than  put 
on  her  bracelets,  tighten  her  sandals,  and  show 
herself  to  the  people.  Her  health  and  vigor  and 
beauty,  if  she  has  any,  are  the  fruits  of  the  open 
fields." 

Landor  was  especially  felicitous  in  his  atmos- 

253 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

phere  in  those  of  his  "  Conversations "  where 
Greek  characters  were  introduced.  His  mind 
was  essentially  Grecian  in  its  cast.  Of  the 
"  Pericles  and  Aspasia,"  Elizabeth  BaiTctt  said, 
as  early  as  in  1839,  that  it  revealed  Landor  to 
be,  of  all  living  writers,  "  the  most  unconven- 
tional in  thought  and  word,  the  most  classical, 
because  the  freest  from  mere  classicalism,  the 
most  Greek,  because  pre-eminently  and  purely 
English,  and  the  fittest  of  all  to  achieve  what 
Plato  calls  a  triumph  in  eloquence,  the  success- 
ful commendation  of  Athens  in  the  midst  of  the 
Peloponnesus." 

Traditions  have  drifted  down,  even  to  the 
Florence  of  to-day,  of  the  appearance  of  Landor 
wandering  alone  on  the  Fiesolan  hills,  com- 
posing his  wonderful  "  Conversations "  aloud. 
The  picture  is  one  to  record  itself  in  memory. 
The  ancient  Etruscan  wall  that  still  guards  the 
southern  side  of  the  slope ;  the  old  Palazzo 
Pretorio,  filled  with  vases,  lamps,  coins,  and  mar- 
bles found  in  the  excavations  at  Fiesole ;  the 
Franciscan  monastery  occupying  the  site  of  the 
old  Acropolis  of  Fassulse,  and  the  church  of 
San  Alessandro  standing  now  as  Landor  knew 
them  and  as  they  have  stood  for  centuries ;  and 

254 


^  IMAGINARY   CONVERSATIONS  " 

the  beautiful  view  of  the  valley  of  Florence 
spread  out  below,  from  the  Carrara  to  the  Cas- 
entino  —  here  the  loiterer  may  still  see  in  fancy 
the  majestic  form  of  the  poet  as  he  walked  alone 
and  rehearsed  aloud  to  himself,  in  the  freedom 
and  solitude  of  the  open  air,  these  dialogues  of 
his  famous  creation.  Literally,  he  seemed  to 
speak  them  into  being.  He  may  have  wandered 
into  the  gardens  of  the  JNIedici  among  the  an- 
tique statues  that  the  gi'cat  Lorenzo  loved.  With 
his  genius  in  harmony  with  itself,  as  it  was  in 
those  hours  of  creation,  the  entire  atmosphere 
was  all  wings  and  flowers,  and  a  strangeness,  like 
that  which  invests  the  blossoming  of  the  aloe, 
still  thrills  the  landscape  in  these  pictures  of 
fancy  that  pervade  the  haunts  of  Boccaccio  and 
of  Walter  Savage  Landor.  In  the  conversation 
between  Alfieri  and  Salomon,  Landor  makes  Al- 
fieri  say  :  — 

"  Look  from  the  window.  That  cottage  on 
the  declivity  was  Dante's.  That  square  and 
large  mansion,  with  a  circular  garden  before  it 
elevated  artificially,  was  the  first  scene  of  Boc- 
caccio's Decameron.  A  boy  might  stand  at  an 
equal  distance  between  them,  and  break  the  win- 

255 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

dows  of  each  with  his  shng.  ...  A  town  so  little 
that  the  voice  of  a  cabbage-girl  in'  the  midst  of 
it  may  be  heard  at  the  extremities,  reared  within 
three  centuries  a  greater  number  of  citizens  il- 
lustrious for  their  genius  than  all  the  remainder 
of  the  Continent  (excepting  her  sister  Athens) 
in  six  thousand  years.  Smile  as  you  will,  Signor 
Conte,  what  must  I  think  of  a  city  where  Mi- 
chael Angelo,  Frate  Bartolommeo,  Ghiberte  (who 
formed  them),  Guicciardini,  and  Machiavelli  were 
secondary  men  ?  And  certainly  such  were  they, 
if  we  compare  them  with  Galileo  and  Boccaccio 
and  Dante." 

It  is  one  of  those  beautiful  correspondences  in 
life  that  in  the  very  heart  of  the  romantic  valley 
where  Boccaccio  had  placed  his  Lago  delle  Belle 
Donne,  Landor  came  to  possess  the  villa  that 
was  surrounded  by  the  scenes  forever  associated 
with  Lorenzo  il  JNIagnifico  and  the  brilliant 
galaxy  of  scholars,  including  the  great  and  good 
Pico  della  Mirandola,  that  Lorenzo  drew  about 
him.  There  was  a  radiant  magnetic  line  of  se- 
quences running  through  Landor's  entire  life  that 
reveal  themselves  impressively  through  the  per- 
spective of  time. 

256 


God's  prophets  of  the  Beautiful 
These  poets  were.   .  .  . 

If  all  the  cronms  of  earth  must  /round 
With  prickings  of  the  thorns  He  found,  — 
If  saddest  siglis  sivell  srveetest  sound,  — 

What  saij  ye  unto  this  ?  —  refuse 
The  baptism  in  salt  water  ?  —  choose 
Calm  breasts,  mute  lips,  and  labour  loose  ? 

"  Or,  O  ye  gifted  givers  !  ye 

Who  give  your  liberal  hearts  to  me 
To  make  the  world  this  harmony, 

"  Are  ye  resigned  that  they  be  spent 
To  such  world's  help  ?  "      The  Spirits  bent 
Their  awful  brows  and  said  '  Content.'  " 

"  Glory  to  God  —  to  God  !  "  he  saith, 
"  Knowledge  by  suffering  entereth, 
And  Life  is  perfected  by  Death." 

Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning. 

Kot  with  disdain  of  days  that  were 

Look  earthward  now  ; 
Let  dreams  revive  the  reverend  hair. 
The  imperial  brow  ; 
17  257 


Come  hack  in  sleep,  for  in  the  life 

Where  thou  art  not 
Wejind  none  like  thee.    Time  and  strife 

And  the  fvorld's  lot 

Move  thee  no  more  ;  but  love  at  least 

And  reverent  heart 
May  move  thee,  royal  a?id  released 
Soul,  as  thou  art. 

Algernon  Charles  Swinburne. 
In  memory  of  Walter  Savage  Landor. 


258 


VII 

THE   TWILIGHT  OF  THE   GODS 

I  strove  with  none,  for  none  was  worth  my  strife  ; 

Nature  I  loved,  and  after  Nature,  Art ; 
I  warmed  both  hands  before  the  fire  of  life  ; 

It  sinks,  and  I  am  ready  to  depart. 

Walter  Savage  Landob. 

The  closing  years  of  Landor's  life  were  a  veri- 
table twilight  of  the  gods,  shot  through  with 
golden  rays  from  the  tender  courtesies  and 
beautiful  kindness  of  the  Brownings  and  the 
Storys.  Their  friendship  sustained  his  last 
lonely  years  and  made  them,  indeed,  in  many 
ways,  the  fairest  of  all  his  earthly  experiences. 
The  portrait  of  JMr.  Landor,  painted  when  he 
was  eighty  years  of  age  and  reproduced  as  the 
frontispiece  of  this  volume,  is  the  work  of  Charles 
Caryll  Coleman,  who  was  then  a  young  art- 
student  in  Italy.  It  was  painted  for  Kate 
Field,  w^ho  thus  naiTates  the  preliminary  con- 
versation :  — 

259 


THE    FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

" '  ]Mr.  Landor,  do  you  remember  the  young 
artist  who  called  on  you  one  day?' 

"  '  Yes,  and  a  nice  fellow  he  seemed  to  be.' 

"  '  He  was  greatly  taken  with  your  head.' 

"  (Humorously.)  '  You  are  quite  sure  he  was 
not  smitten  with  my  face  ? ' 

"  *  No,  I  am  not  sure,  for  he  expressed  himself 
enthusiastically  about  your  beard.  He  says  you 
are  a  fine  subject  for  a  study.' 

*'  No  answer. 

"  '  Would  you  allow  him  to  make  a  sketch  of 
you,  Mr.  Landor  ?  He  is  exceedingly  anxious 
to  do  so.' 

"  *  No  ;  I  do  not  wish  my  face  to  be  public 
property.  .  I  detest  this  publicity  that  men  now- 
a-days  seem  to  be  so  fond  of.  There  is  a  paint- 
ing of  me  in  England.  D'Orsay,  too,  made  a 
drawing  of  me '  (I  think  he  said  drawing)  'once 
when  I  was  visiting  Gore  House,  —  a  very  good 
thing  it  was,  too,  —  and  there  is  a  bust  executed 
by  Gibson  when  I  was  in  Rome.  These  are 
quite  sufficient.  I  have  often  been  urged  to  al- 
low my  portrait  to  be  inserted  in  my  books,  but 
never  would  I  give  my  consent.'  (Notwith- 
standing this  assertion,  it  may  be  found  in  the 
*  Last  Fruit.')     *  It  is  a  custom  that  I  detest.' 

260 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

"  '  But,  I\Ir.  Landor,  you  had  your  photograph 
taken  lately.' 

" '  That  was  to  obhge  my  good  friend  Brown- 
ing, who  has  been  so  exceedingly  kind  and  atten- 
tive to  me.     I  could  not  refuse  him.' 

"*But,  JMr.  Landor,  this  is  entirely  between 
ourselves.  It  does  not  concern  the  public  in  the 
least.  JNIy  friend  wants  to  make  a  study  of  your 
head,  and  I  want  the  study.' 

"  *  Oh,  the  painting  is  for  you,  is  it  ? ' 

"  '  Yes.  I  want  to  have  something  of  you  in 
oil  colors.' 

"  '  Ah,  to  be  sure  !  the  old  creature's  complex- 
ion is  so  fresh  and  foir.  AVell,  I  '11  tell  you  what 
I  will  do.  Your  friend  may  come,  provided  you 
come  with  him,  —  and  act  as  chaperon  ! '  This 
was  said  laughingly. 

"  *  That  I  will  do  with  pleasure.' 

"  *  But  stop  ! '  added  Landor  after  a  pause.  '  I 
must  be  taken  without  my  beard  ! ' 

"  '  Oh,  no  !  Mr.  Landor,  that  cannot  be.  Why, 
you  will  spoil  the  picture.  You  won't  look  like 
a  patriarch  without  a  beard.' 

" '  I  ordered  my  barber  to  come  and  shear 
me  to-morrow.  The  weather  is  getting  to 
be  very  warm,  and   a   hea^y  beard   is   exceed- 

261 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

ingly  uncomfortable.  I  must  be  shaved  to- 
morrow.' 

"  *  Pray  countermand  the  order,  dear  Mr.  Lan- 
dor.  Do  retain  your  beard  until  the  picture  is 
completed.  You  will  not  be  obliged  to  wait 
long.  We  shall  all  be  so  disappointed  if  you 
don't' 

"  '  Well,  well,  I  suppose  I  must  submit.' 

"  And  thus  the  matter  was  amicably  arranged, 
to  our  infinite  satisfaction. 

*'  Those  sittings  were  very  pleasant  to  the  artist 
and  his  chaperon,  and  were  not  disagreeable,  I 
think,  to  the  model.  Seated  in  his  arm-chair, 
with  his  back  to  the  window  that  the  light 
might  fall  on  the  top  of  his  head  and  form  a  sort 
of  glory,  Landor  looked  every  inch  a  seer,  and 
would  entertain  us  with  interesting  though  un- 
seerlike  recollections,  while  the  artist  was  busy 
with  his  brush." 

Landor  frequently  passed  an  evening  at  Casa 
Guidi  with  his  devoted  friends,  and  of  one  of 
these  occasions  Miss  Field  relates  the  following 
story :  — 

"  Apropos  of  old  songs,  Landor  has  laid  his 
offering  upon  their  neglected  altar.     I  shall  not 

262 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

forget  that  evening  at  Casa  Guidi, —  I  can  for- 
get no  evening  passed  there,  — when,  just  as  the 
tea  was  being  placed  upon  the  table,  Robert 
Browning  turned  to  Landor,  who  was  that  night's 
honored  guest,  gracefully  thanked  him  for  his  de- 
fence of  old  songs,  and,  opening  the  '  Last  Fruit,' 
read  in  his  clear,  manly  voice  the  follo^\ing  pas- 
sages from  the  Idyls  of  Theocritus :  *  We  often 
hear  that  such  or  such  a  thing  is  not  worth  an 
old  song.  Alas  1  how  very  few  things  are  !  What 
precious  recollections  do  some  of  them  awaken  ! 
what  pleasurable  tears  do  they  excite  !  They 
purify  the  stream  of  life ;  they  can  delay  it  on 
its  shelves  and  rapids ;  they  can  turn  it  back 
again  to  the  soft  moss  amidst  which  its  sources 
issue.' 

"  'Ah,  you  are  kind,'  replied  the  gratified  author. 
*  You  always  find  out  the  best  bits  in  my  books.' 

*'I  have  never  seen  anything  of  its  kind  so  chi- 
valric  as  the  deference  paid  by  Robert  Browning 
to  Walter  Savage  Landor.  It  was  loyal  homage 
rendered  by  a  poet,  in  all  the  glow  of  power  and 
impulsive  magnetism,  to  'an  old  master.'" 

Out  of  her  memories  of  these  social  evenings 

with  the  Brownings  and  Landor,  Miss  Field  also 

writes :  — 

263 


THE    FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

*'Landor  entertained  a  genuine  affection  for  the 
memory  of  Lady  Blessington.  '  Ah,  there  was  a 
woman  ! '  he  exclaimed  one  day  with  a  sigh.  '  I 
never  knew  so  brilliant  and  witty  a  person  in 
conversation.  She  was  most  generous  too,  and 
kind-hearted.  I  never  heard  her  mak^  an  ill- 
natured  remark.  It  was  my  custom  to  visit  her 
whenever  the  laurel  was  in  bloom ;  and  as  the 
season  approached,  she  would  wiite  me  a  note, 
saying,  "  Gore  House  expects  you,  for  the  laurel 
has  begun  to  blossom."  I  never  see  laurel  now, 
that  it  does  not  make  me  sad,  for  it  recalls  her 
to  me  so  vividly.  During  these  visits  I  never 
saw  Lady  Blessington  until  dinner-time.  She 
always  breakfasted  in  her  own  room,  and  wrote 
during  the  morning.  She  wrote  very  well,  too ; 
her  style  was  pure.  In  the  evening  her  drawing- 
room  was  thrown  open  to  her  friends,  except 
when  she  attended  the  opera.  Her  opera-box 
faced  the  Queen's  and  a  formidable  rival  she  was 
to  her  Majesty.' 

"  D'Orsay  was  an  Apollo  in  beauty,  very  ami- 
able, and  had  considerable  talent  for  modelling. 
Taking  me  into  his  little  back  sitting-room,  Lan- 
dor  brought  out  a  small  album,  and,  passing  over 
the  likenesses  of  several  old  friends,  among  whom 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

were  Southey,  Porson,  Napier,  and  other  celebri- 
ties, he  held  up  an  engraving  of  Lady  Blessing- 
ton.  Upon  my  remarking  its  beauty,  I^andor 
replied  :  '  That  was  taken  at  the  age  of  fifty,  so 
you  can  imagine  how  beautiful  she  must  have 
been  in  her  youth.  Her  voice  and  laugh  were 
very  musical.'  Then,  turning  to  a  young  lady 
present,  Landor  made  her  an  exceedingly  neat 
compliment,  by  saying,  '  Your  voice  reminds  me 
very  vividly  of  Lady  Blessington's.  Perhaps,' 
he  continued  with  a  smile,  'this  is  the  reason  why 
my  old,  deaf  ears  never  lose  a  word  when  you 
are  speaking.'  Driving  along  the  north  side  of 
the  Arno  one  summer's  day,  Landor  gazed  sadly 
at  a  terrace  overlooking  the  water,  and  said  : 
*  JMany  a  delightful  evening  have  I  spent  on  that 
terrace  with  Lord  arid  Lady  Blessington.  There 
we  used  to  take  our  tea.  They  once  visited 
Florence  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  see  me. 
Was  not  that  friendly?  They  are  both  dead 
now,  and  I  am  doomed  to  live  on.  A^^hen  Lady 
Blessington  died,  I  was  asked  to  write  a  Latin 
epitaph  for  her  tomb,  which  I  did ;  but  some 
officious  person  thought  to  improve  the  Latin 
before  it  was  engraved,  and  ruined  it.' 

"  This  friendship  was  fully  reciprocated  by  Lady 

265 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Blessington,  who,  in  her  letters  to  Landor,  refers 
no  less  than  three  times  to  those  *  calm  nights  on 
the  terrace  of  the  Casa  Pelosi.'  '  I  send  you,'  she 
writes,  the  '  engraving,  and  have  only  to  wish  that 
it  may  sometimes  remind  you  of  the  original. 
....  Five  fleeting  years  have  gone  by  since 
our  delicious  evenings  on  the  lovely  Arno,  — 
evenings  never  to  be  forgotten,  and  the  recol- 
lections of  which  ought  to  cement  the  friendships 
then  formed.'  Again,  in  her  books  of  travel,  — 
the  '  Idler  in  France '  and  '  Idler  in  Italy,'  —  Lady 
Blessington  pays  the  very  highest  tribute  to 
Landor's  heart,  as  well  as  intellect,  and  declares 
his  real  conversations  to  be  quite  as  delightful  as 
his  imaginary  ones.  She  who  will  live  long  in 
history  as  the  friend  of  great  men  now  lies  be- 
neath the  chestnut  shade  of  Saint  Germain  ;  and 
Landor,  with  the  indignation  of  one  who  loved 
her,  has  turned  to  D'Orsay,  asking  — 

" '  Who  was  it  squandered  all  her  wealth. 
And  swept  away  the  bloom  of  health  ? ' 

"  One  day,"  continues  Miss  Field,  in  her  rem- 
iniscences of  the  Landor  days,  "  the  conversation 
turned  to  Aubrey  De  Vere,  the  beautiful  Catho- 
lic   poet  of   Ireland,   whose  name    is  scarcely 

266 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF  THE   GODS 

known  on  this  side  of  the  Athmtic.  Tliis  is  our 
loss,  though  De  Vere  can  never  be  a  popular 
poet  for  his  muse  lives  in  the  past  and  breathes 
ether  rather  than  air.  '  De  Vere  is  charming, 
both  as  man  and  as  poet,'  said  Landor  enthu- 
siastically, rising  as  he  spoke  and  leaving  the 
room,  to  return  immediately  with  a  small  volume 
of  De  Vere's  poems  published  at  Oxford  in  1843. 
'  Here  are  his  poems,  given  to  me  by  himself. 
Such  a  modest,  unassuming  man  as  he  is  I  Now 
listen  to  this  from  the  "  Ode  on  the  Ascent  of 
the  Alps."     Is  it  not  magnificent  ? 

" '  "  I  spake  —  Behold  her  o'er  the  broad  lake  flying  : 
Like  a  great  Angel  missioned  to  bestow 
Some  boon  on  men  beneath  in  sadness  lying : 
The  waves  are  murmuring  silver  murmurs  low  : 

Over  the  waves  are  borne 
Those  feeble  lights  which,  ere  the  eyes  of  Mom 
Are  lifted,  through  her  lids  and  lashes  flow. 

Beneath  the  curdling  wind 
Green  through  the  shades  the  waters  rush  and  roll, 
Or  whitened  only  by  the  unfrequent  shoal ;  — 
Lo !  two  dark  hills,  with  darker  yet  behind, 
Ginfront  them,  purple  mounfciins  almost  black, 
Each  behind  each  self-folded  and  withdrawn 
Beneath  the  umbrage  of  yon  cloudy  rack  — 

That  orange  gleam  !  't  is  dawn  ! 
Onward  !  the  swan's  flight  with  the  eagle's  blending. 
On,  winged  Muse  ;  still  forward  and  ascending  !  " 
267 


THE   FLORENCE  OF   LANDOR 

" '  This  sonnet  on  Sunrise,'  continued  Landor, 
'  is  the  noblest  that  ever  was  written  :  — 

«  «  "  I  saw  the  Master  of  the  Sun.     He  stood 

High  in  his  luminous  ear,  himself  more  bright. 

An  Arclier  of  immeasurable  might ; 

On  his  left  shoulder  hung  his  quivered  load ; 

Spurned  by  his  Steeds  the  eastern  mountain  glowed ; 

Forward  his  eager  eye  and  brow  of  light 

He  bent ;  and  while  both  hands  that  arch  embowed. 

Shaft  after  shaft  pursued  the  flying  Night. 

No  wings  profaned  that  godlike  form :  around 

His  neck  high  held  an  ever-moving  crowd 

Of  locks  hung  glistening  ;  while  such  perfect  sound 

Fell  from  his  bowstring,  that  tK  ethereal  dome 

Thrilled  as  a  dew-drop  ;  and  each  passing  cloud 

Expanded,  whitening  like  the  ocean  foam." 

" '  Is  not  this  line  grand  ?  — 

"  Peals  the  strong,  voluminous  thunder  ! " 

And  how  incomparable  is  the  termination  of  this 
song  I  — 

"  Bright  was  her  soul  as  Dian's  crest 
Showering  on  Vesta's  fane  its  sheen : 
Cold  looked  she  as  the  waveless  breast 
Of  some  stone  Dian  at  thirteen. 
Men  loved  :  but  hope  they  deemed  to  be 
A  sweet  Impossibility  !  " 

Here  are  two  beautiful  lines  from  the  Grecian 
Ode:  — 

268 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

"  Those  sinuous  streams  that  blushing  wander 
Through  hibyrinthine  oleander." 

This  is  like  Shakespeare  :  — 

"  Yea,  and  the  Queen  of  Love,  as  fame  reports. 
Was  caught,  —  no  doubt  in  Bacchic  wreaths  —  for  Bacchus 
Such  puissance  hath,  that  he  old  oaks  will  twine 
Into  tme-lovers'  knots,  and  laughing  stand 
Until  the  sun  goes  down." 

And  an  admirable  passage  is  this,  too,  from  the 
same  poem,  "  The  Search  after  Proserpine  " : 

"  Yea  and  the  motions  of  her  trees  and  harvests 
Resemble  those  of  slaves,  reluct^mt,  slow, 
By  outward  force  compelled  ;  not  like  our  billows, 
Springing  elastic  in  impetuoits  joy, 
Or  indolently  swayed." 

"  '  There  ! '  exclaimed  Landor,  closing  the  book, 
'  I  want  you  to  have  this.  It  will  be  none  the 
less  valuable  because  I  have  scribbled  in  it,'  he 
added  with  a  smile. 

"  '  But,  JNIr.  Landor  — ' 

"  '  Now  don't  say  a  word.  I  am  an  old  man, 
and  if  both  my  legs  are  not  in  the  grave,  they 
ought  to  be.  I  cannot  lay  up  such  treasures  in 
heaven,  you  know,  —  saving  of  course  in  my 
memory,  —  and  De  \^ere  had  ratlier  you  should 

'269 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

have  it  than  the  rats.  There 's  a  compliment  for 
you  !  so  put  the  book  in  your  pocket' 

"  This  httle  volume  is  marked  throughout  by 
Landor  with  notes  of  admiration,  and  if  I  here 
transcribe  a  few  of  his  favorite  poems,  it  will  be 
with  the  hope  of  benefiting  many  readers  to 
whom  De  Vere  is  a  sealed  book. 

"  *  Greece  never  produced  anything  so  exqui- 
site,' wrote  Landor  beneath  the  following  song  : 

"  '  Give  me  back  my  heart,  fair  child  ; 

To  you  as  yet  'twere  worth  but  little 
Half  beguiler,  half  beguiled, 

Be  you  warned,  your  own  is  brittle  : 
I  know  it  by  your  redd'ning  cheeks, 
I  know  it  by  those  two  black  streaks 
Arching  up  your  pearly  brows 

In  a  momentary  laughter. 
Stretched  in  long  and  dark  repose 

With  a  sigh  the  moment  after. 

"  *  "  Hid  it !  dropt  it  on  the  moors ! 

Lost  it,  and  you  cannot  find  it  "  — 
My  own  heart  I  want,  not  yours  : 

You  have  bound  and  must  unbind  it. 
Set  it  free  then  from  your  net. 
We  will  love,  sweet  —  but  not  yet ! 
Fling  it  from  you  ;  —  we  are  strong  ; 

Love  is  trouble,  love  is  folly ; 
Love,  that  makes  an  old  heart  young. 

Makes  a  young  heart  melancholy.' 
270 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE    GODS 

"  And   for  this  Landor   claimed  tliat   it   was 
'  finer  than  the  best  in  Horace  ' :  — 

"  *  Slanting  both  hands  against  her  forehead. 
On  me  she  levelled  her  bright  eyes. 
My  whole  heart  brightened  as  the  sea 
When  midnight  clouds  part  suddenly  :  — 
Through  all  my  spirit  went  the  lustre. 
Like  starlight  poured  through  purple  skies. 

"  *  And  then  she  sang  a  loud,  sweet  music ; 
Yet  louder  as  aloft  it  clomb  : 
Soft  when  her  curving  lips  it  left ; 
Then  rising  till  the  heavens  were  cleft. 
As  though  each  strain,  on  high  expanding, 
Were  echoed  in  a  silver  dome. 

"  *  But  hark!  she  sings  "  she  does  not  love  me  "  : 
She  loves  to  say  she  ne'er  can  love. 
To  me  her  beauty  she  denies,  — 
Bending  the  while  on  me  those  eyes. 
Whose  beams  might  charm  the  mountain  leopard. 
Or  lure  Jove's  herald  from  above ! ' 

"  Below  the  following  exquisite  bit  of  melody 
is  written,  '  Never  was  any  sonnet  so  beautiful.' 

"  *  She  whom  this  heart  must  ever  hold  most  dear 
(This  heart  in  happy  bondage  held  so  long) 
Began  to  sing  :  At  first  a  gentle  fear 
Rosied  her  countenance,  for  she  is  young, 
And  he  who  loves  her  most  of  all  was  near ; 
But  when  at  last  her  voice  grew  full  and  strong, 
271 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

0  !  from  their  ambush  sweet,  how  rich  and  clear 
The  notes  were  showered  abroad,  a  rapturous  throng ! 
Her  Httle  hands  were  sometimes  flung  apart, 

And  sometimes  palm  to  |xilm  together  prest. 
While  wavelike  blushes  rising  from  her  breast 
Ke})t  time  with  that  aerial  melody, 
As  music  to  the  sight !  —  I  standing  nigh 
Received  the  falling  fountain  in  my  heart.' 

" '  What  sonnet  of  Petrarca  equals  this  ? '  he 
says  of  the  following :  — 

"  '  Happy  are  they  who  kiss  thee,  morn  and  even, 
Parting  the  hair  upon  thy  forehead  white  : 
For  them  the  sky  is  bluer  and  more  bright. 
And  purer  their  thanksgivings  rise  to  Heaven. 
Happy  are  they  to  whom  thy  songs  are  given  ; 
Happy  are  they  on  whom  thy  hands  alight : 
And  happiest  they  for  whom  thy  prayers  at  night 
In  tender  piety  so  oft  have  striven. 
Away  with  vain  regrets  and  selfish  sighs  — 
Even  I,  dear  friend,  am  lonely,  not  unblest : 
Permitted  sometimes  on  that  form  to  gaze. 
Or  feel  the  light  of  those  consoling  eyes  : 
If  but  a  moment  on  my  cheek  it  stays, 

1  know  that  gentle  beam  from  all  the  rest ! ' 

"  '  Like  Shakespeare's,  but  better,'  is  this  alle- 
gory:— 

" '  You  say  that  you  have  given  your  love  to  me. 
Ah,  give  it  not,  but  lend  it  me ;  and  say 
That  you  will  ofttimes  ask  me  to  repay. 
But  never  to  restore  it :  so  shall  we, 
272 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF  THE   GODS 

Retaining,  still  bestow  perpetually  : 

So  shall  I  ask  thee  for  it  every  day, 

Securely  as  for  daily  bread  we  pray ; 

So  all  of  favor,  naught  of  right  shall  be. 

The  joy  which  now  is  mine  shall  leave  me  never. 

Indeed,  I  have  deserved  it  not ;  and  yet 

No  painful  blush  is  mine,  —  so  soon  my  face 

Blushing  is  hid  in  that  beloved  embrace. 

Myself  I  would  condemn  not,  but  forget ; 

Remembering  thee  alone,  and  thee  forever ! ' 

"  *  Worthy  of  Raleigh  and  Hke  him,'  is  Landor  s 
preface  to  the  following  sonnet :  — 

" '  Flowers  I  would  bring,  if  flowers  could  make  thee  fairer. 
And  music,  if  the  Muse  were  dear  to  thee, 
(For  loving  these  would  make  thee  love  the  bearer  :) 
But  sweetest  songs  forget  their  melody. 
And  loveliest  flowers  would  but  conceal  the  wearer : 
A  rose  I  marked,  and  might  have  plucked ;  but  she 
Blushed  as  she  bent,  imploring  me  to  spare  her, 
Nor  spoil  her  beauty  by  such  rivalry. 
Alas !  and  with  what  gifts  shall  I  pursue  thee, 
What  offerings  bring,  what  treasures  lay  before  thee, 
When  earth  with  all  her  floral  train  doth  woo  thee, 
And  all  old  poets  and  old  songs  adore  thee. 
And  love  to  thee  is  naught,  from  passionate  mood 
Secured  by  joy's  complacent  plenitude  ! ' 

"  Occasionally    Landor    indulges   in    a    little 
humorous    indignation,    particularly   in    his   re- 

18  273 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

marks  on  the  poem  of  which  Coleridge  is  the 
hero.     De  Vere's  lines  end  thus  :  — 

" '  Soft  be  the  sound  ordained  thy  sleep  to  break  ! 
When  thou  art  waking,  wake  me,  for  thy  Master's  sake.' 

"'  And  let  me  nap  on/  wrote  the  august  critic, 
who  had  no  desire  to  meet  Coleridge,  even  as  a 
celestial  being. 

"  Now  and  then  there  is  a  dash  of  the  pencil 
across  some  final  verse,  with  the  remark,  '  Better 
without  these.'  Twice  or  thrice  Landor  finds 
fault  with  a  word. 

"  The  following  note,"  continues  Miss  Field, 
*'  is  worthy  to  be  transcribed,  showing  as  it  does 
the  generosity  of  his  nature  at  a  time  when 
he  had  nothing  to  give  away  but  ideas.  Landor 
wTote  :  — 

"  JNIy  dear  Friend,  —  Will  you  think  it 
worth  your  while  to  transcribe  the  enclosed  ? 
These  pages  I  have  corrected  and  enlarged. 
Some  of  them  you  have  never  seen.  They  have 
occupied  more  of  my  time  and  trouble,  and  are 
now  more  complete,  than  anything  you  have 
favored  me  by  reading.  I  hope  you  will  be 
pleased.  I  care  less  about  others.  ...  I  hope 
you  will  get  something  for  these  articles,  and 

274 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE    GODS 

keep  it.  I  am  richer  by  several  crowns  than 
you  suspect,  and  I  must  scramble  to  the  king- 
dom of  Heaven,  to  which  a  full  pocket,  we  learn, 
is  an  impediment. 

Ever  truly  yours, 

W.  S.  L. 

"  The  manuscripts  contained  the  two  conver- 
sations between  Homer  and  Laertes  which  two 
years  ago  were  published  in  the  '  Heroic  Idyls.' 
I  did  not  put  them  to  the  use  desired  by  their 
author.  Though  my  copies  differ  somewhat 
from  the  printed  ones,  it  is  natural  to  conclude 
that  Landor  most  approved  of  what  was  last 
submitted  to  his  inspection,  and  would  not  de- 
sire to  be  seen  in  any  other  guise.  The  publicity 
of  a  note  prefixed  to  one  of  these  conversations, 
however  is  waiTanted. 

"  It  will  be  thought  audacious,  and  most  so  by 
those  who  know  the  least  of  Homer,  to  represent 
him  as  talking  so  familiarly.  He  must  often 
have  done  it,  as  Milton  and  Shakespeare  did. 
There  is  homely  talk  in  the  '  Odyssey.' 

"  Fashion  turns  round  like  Fortune.  Twenty 
years  hence,  perhaps,  this  conversation  of  Homer 
and  Laertes,  in  which  for  the  first  time  Greek 

275 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

domestic  manners  have  been  represented  by  any- 
modern  poet,  may  be  recognized  and  approved." 

IMiss  Field  again  writes :  — 

"Popular  as  is  the  belief  that  Landor's  gifts 
were  the  offspring  of  profound  study,  he  himself 
says  :  '  Only  four  years  of  my  life  were  given  up 
much  to  study ;  and  I  regret  that  I  spent  so 
many  so  ill.  Even  these  debarred  me  from  no 
pleasure ;  for  I  seldom  read  or  wrote  within 
doors,  excepting  a  few  hours  at  night.  The 
learning  of  those  who  are  called  the  learned  is 
learning  at  second  hand ;  the  primary  and  most 
important  must  be  acquired  by  reading  in  our 
own  bosoms  ;  the  rest  by  a  deep  insight  into 
other  men's.  What  is  written  is  mostly  an  im- 
perfect and  unfaithful  copy.'  This  confession 
emanates  from  one  who  is  claimed  as  a  university 
rather  than  a  universal  man.  Landor  remained 
but  two  years  at  Oxford,  and,  though  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  classics,  never  contended  for  a 
Latin  prize.  Speaking  of  this  one  day,  he  said : 
'  I  once  wrote  some  Latin  verses  for  a  fellow  ot 
my  college  who,  being  in  great  trouble,  came  to 
me  for  aid.     What  was  hard  work  to  him  was 

276 


THE  TWILIGHT  OF  THE   GODS 

pastime  to  me,  and  it  ended  in  my  composing 
the  entire  poem.  At  the  time  the  fellow  was 
very  grateful,  but  it  happened  that  these  verses 
excited  attention  and  were  much  eulogized.  The 
supposed  author  accepted  the  praise  as  due  to 
himself.  This  of  course  I  expected,  as  he  knew 
full  well  I  would  never  betray  him ;  but  the 
amusing  part  of  the  matter  was  that  the  fellow 
never  afterwards  spoke  to  me,  never  came  near 
me,  —  in  fact,  treated  me  as  though  I  had  done 
him  a  grievous  wrong.  It  was  of  no  consequence 
to  me  that  he  strutted  about  in  my  feathers.  If 
they  became  him,  he  was  welcome  to  them,  — 
but  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  cowards.'" 

"  Poetry,"  writes  Landor,  "  was  always  my 
amusement,  prose  my  study  and  business."  In 
his  twentieth  year  he  lived  in  the  woods,  "  did 
not  exchange  twelve  sentences  with  men,"  and 
wrote  "  Gebir,"  his  most  elaborate  and  ambitious 
poem,  which  Southey  took  as  a  model  in  blank 
verse. 

Among  Landor's  correspondence  in  these  clos- 
ing years  the  following  letters  that  passed  between 
Kossuth  and  himself  tell  their  own  story  of 
Landor's   sympathy   with   the  cause  of  liberty. 

277 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

The    letter    from    Kossuth    to    Landor    is    as 
follows :  — 

8,  South  Bank  Regents  Park, 

London,  March  24,  1856. 

My  venerable  Friend,  —  Though  I  very 
gratefully  appreciate  the  generosity  of  your  in- 
tentions, still  I  must  confess,  that  few  things  have 
ever  affected  me  more  painfully  than  to  see  from 
the  Times  of  to-day,  my  private  circumstances, 
the  sacred  domain  of  my  life  —  thrust  as  an  object 
of  commiseration  upon  public  discussion,  a  miser- 
able subject  of  public  sneers. 

My  head  turns  giddy  at  the  very  thought,  and 
my  resignation  is  scarcely  able  to  overcome  the 
shame,  I  don't  know  how  1  shall  muster  sufficient 
resolution  to  appear  in  public  ever  hereafter  ; 
and  I  fear  with  all  your  good  intentions,  you 
shall  have  become  the  involuntary  instrument  for 
driving  me  out  of  England,  before  my  time.  I 
really  scarcely  can  imagine  what  else  I  have  to 
do,  imless  you  devise  some  means  for  healing  the 
wound. 

I  am  poor,  very  poor  ;  but  there  was,  I  dare  say, 
something  honorable  in  that  poverty,  something 
sacred  I  would  say.  But  seeing  it  made  the 
object   of  a  public  appeal  for  commiseration,  I 

278 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

feel   as   if  everything   that   was    sacred   to   my 
position  had  undergone  a  profanation. 

I  repeat  that  I  respect  and  appreciate  the  no- 
bihty  of  your  impulses,  but  I  regret  that  sucli  a 
step  should  have  been  taken  without  my  having 
an  idea  of  its  possibility. 

I  will  say  no  more,  but  leave  it  with  your 
prudence  and  discretion  to  mitigate  the  blow  your 
kindness  has  inflicted  on  me.  And  remain  wdth 
wonted  esteem,  only  mingled  with  grief, 

Yours  very  truly, 

Kossuth. 

To  Walter  Savage  Landor. 

To  which  Landor  replied  :  — 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  rest  until  I  have 
attempted  to  remove  the  vexation  I  have  caused 
to  the  man  I  most  venerate  of  any  upon  earth. 

"  My  noble  Kossuth  !  *  The  sacred  domain  of 
your  life'  is  far  more  extensive  than  your 
measurement.  Neither  your  house  nor  your 
banker's  are  its  confines.  Do  not  imagine  that 
the  World  is  ignorant  of  your  circumstances :  it 
would  be  a  crime  to  be  indifferent  to  them. 
The  Editor  of  the  '  Atlas'  in  announcing  that  he 
had   ^secured'  your   co-operation,    published    a 

279 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

manifesto.  I  know  nothing  of  this  editor  ;  but, 
so  long  as  you  contributed  to  the  paper,  I  was 
your  humble  subsidiary. 

"  Consider  how  many  men,  wealthier  than  you 
and  me,  have  accepted  the  offers  of  those  who 
came  forward  to  indemnify  the  persecuted  for  the 
demohtion  of  their  property.  Ask  yourself  if 
Demosthenes  or  JNlilton,  the  two  most  illustrious 
defenders  of  liberty,  by  speech  and  pen,  would 
have  thrust  aside  the  tribute  which  is  due  to  such 
men  alone.  Would  you  dash  out  the  signature  of 
one  who  declares  you  his  trustee  for  a  legacy  to 
your  children?  No,  you  would  not.  Neither 
will  you  reject  the  proofs  of  high  esteem,  however 
manifested,  which  England,  however  debased,  is 
anxious  to  give. 

"  Believe  me  ever  sincerely 
and  affectionately  yours, 

"  W.  S.  Landor." 

The  originals  of  these  two  letters  (which  Miss 
Kate  Field  had  preserved  among  her  MSS.)  were 
given  by  her  biographer*  to  the  Boston  Public 
Library,  together  with  many  autograph  letters 
written   to  Miss   Field  herself  by   many  of  the 

1  Kate  Field :  A  Record. 
280 


\ii:\\    I  mm    iiii    (.hium)-   m     \ii.i,\    r.wnon. 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF  THE   GODS 

famous  people  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Her 
own  reminiscences  of  Landor,  from  which  the 
foregoing  transcripts  hav^e  been  freely  drawn,  were 
placed  by  her  publishers  at  the  disposal  of  the 
writer  of  this  volume. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  1859  that,  owing  to 
domestic  difficulties,  JNlr.  Landor  left  his  beautiful 
villa  on  the  hillside  near  Fiesole  and  came  under 
the  immediate  care  of  INlr.  Browning,  who  ar- 
ranged for  the  aged  poet  to  go  for  a  time  to  a 
little,  apartment  in  Siena;  but  the  Storys,  who 
were  then  in  villcggiatura  in  the  quaint  old 
mediaeval  city,  invited  him  to  their  villa.  "  He 
made  us  a  long  visit,"  wrote  IMrs.  Story,  "  and 
was  an  honored  and  cherished  guest.  During 
the  time  he  was  with  us  his  courtesy  and  high 
breeding  never  failed  him ;  he  was  touchingly 
pleased  and  happy  with  our  life,  and  so  delightful 
and  amusing  that  we  ourselves  grieved  when  it 
came  to  an  end." 

Later,  the  Brownings  took  the  ^"illa  Alberti, 
a  little  distance  from  the  Storys,  and  a  ^'illina 
close  to  the  Brownings  was  engaged  for  I\Ir.  Lan- 
dor, who  would  be  seen  astir  in  the  early  morn- 
ings writing  Latin  verses  under  the  cypress  trees. 
Mrs.  Story's  letters  mention  how  frequently  the 

2S1 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

aged  poet  came  to  them,  and  she  says :  "  His 
mention  of  Rose  Aylmer  —  and  he  often  men- 
tioned her  —  always  brought  the  tears  to  his 
eyes  if  not  to  ours  ;  for  there  with  her  he  had 
evidently  buried  his  heart."  And  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing wrote  of  Landor  to  a  friend,  saying :  — 

"  He  has  excellent,  generous,  affectionate  im- 
pulses, but  the  impulses  of  the  tiger  every  now 
and  then.  Nothing  coheres  in  him,  either  in  his 
opinions,  or,  I  fear,  his  affections.  It  is  n't  age  — 
he  is  precisely  the  man  of  his  youth,  I  must 
believe.  Still,  his  genius  gives  him  the  right  to 
gratitude  of  all  artists  at  least,  and  I  must  say 
that  my  Robert  has  generously  paid  the  debt. 
Robert  always  said  that  he  owed  more  as  a 
writer  to  Landor  than  to  any  contemporary.  At 
present  Landor  is  very  fond  of  him,  but  I  am 
quite  prepared  for  his  turning  against  us  as  he 
has  turned  against  Forster,  who  has  been  so 
devoted  for  years  and  years.  Only  one  isn't 
kind  for  what  one  gets  by  it,  or  there  w^ould  n't 
be  much  kindness  in  this  world." 

Landor's  friendships,  however,  were  for  the 
most  part  very  sincere  and  strong.  The  strangely 
trying  domestic  infelicities  that  he  suffered  evi- 

282 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF  THE   GODS 

dently  left  their  trace  on  him,  but  in  the  main  his 
noble  nature  always  prevailed.  He  was  a  keen 
observer  of  cliaracter.  Being  asked  at  one  time  if 
he  had  ever  seen  Daniel  Webster,  Landor  re- 
plied, "  I  once  met  Mr.  Webster  at  a  dinner- 
party. We  sat  next  each  other,  and  had  a  most 
agreeable  conversation.  Finally  Mr.  Webster 
asked  me  if  I  would  have  taken  him  for  an 
American,  and  I  answered,  '  Yes,  for  the  best  of 
Americans  I ' " 

For  Southey  his  friendship  was  abounding,  as 
it  was  for  Lamb  and  Coleridge ;  and  he  gave  to 
Keats  an  ardent  appreciation.  The  remarkable 
quotation  whose  first  line  runs :  — 

"I  strove  with  none  ;  for  none  was  worth  my  strife." 

was  wi'itten  on  the  evening  of  his  seventy-fifth 
birthday  after  the  departure  of  his  friends,  Dickens 
and  John  Forster,  who  had  passed  the  anniversary 
with  him.  He  sent  the  stanza  to  JVIr.  Forster 
with  a  Httle  note  that  ran :  — 

"  My  thanks  were  not  spoken  to  you  and 
Dickens  for  your  journey  of  two  hundred  miles 
upon  my  birthday.  Here  they  are,  —  not  visible 
on  the  surface  of  the  paper,  nor  on  any  surftice 
whatever,  but  in  the  heart  that  is  dictating  this 

283 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

letter.  On  the  night  you  left  me  I  wrote  the 
following  Dying  Speech  of  an  old  Philoso- 
pher." 

Then  followed  the  stanza  which  is  given  in 
full  at  the  opening  of  this  chapter. 

Curiously,  it  is  said  that  although  Shelley  and 
Landor  both  lived  in  Paris  at  the  same  time,  and 
each  highly  appreciated  the  other's  poetry,  they 
never  met.  Landor  cared  for  Wordsworth,  but 
said  that  he  found  in  him  "  a  sad  deficiency  of  vital 
heat."  His  closest  affinities  were  with  the  Latin 
poets,  and  of  the  modern,  Shakespeare  and  INIilton 
were  his  best-loved.  Browning  he  cared  for  in- 
tensely, and  Mrs.  Browning's  friendship  cheered 
the  lonely  old  man  who  had  outlived  all  his  early 
contemporaries,  almost  to  the  last.  Browning's 
poetry  puzzled  him,  although  he  was  one  of  the 
earliest  to  recognize  the  genius  of  the  author  of 
*'  Pauline,"  while  of  Browning  himself  Landor 
wrote :  — 

"  Since  Chaucer  was  alive  and  hale, 
No  man  hath  walked  along  our  roads  with  step, 
So  active,  so  inquiring  eye,  or  tongue 
So  varied  in  discourse." 

"  I  have  always  deeply  regretted  that  I  never 
met  Shelley,"  said  Landor  to  IMiss  Field.     "  It 

284 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

was  my  own  ftiult,  for  1  was  in  Pisa  the  winter 
he  resided  there,  and  was  told  that  Shelley  de- 
sired to  make  my  acquaintance.  But  I  refused 
to  make  his,  as  at  that  time,  I  believed  the  dis- 
graceful story  related  of  him  in  connection  with 
his  first  wife.  Years  after,  when  I  called  upon 
the  second  JNIrs.  Shelley,  who,  then  a  widow, 
was  living  out  of  London,  I  related  to  her  what  I 
had  heard.  She  assured  me  that  it  was  a  most 
infamous  falsehood,  one  of  the  many  that  had 
been  maliciously  circulated  about  her  husband. 
I  expressed  my  sorrow  at  not  having  been  un- 
deceived earlier,  and  assured  her  I  never  could 
forgive  myself  for  crediting  a  slander  that  had 
prevented  me  ii'om  knowing  Shelley.  I  was 
much  pleased  with  Mrs.  Shelley." 

Landor's  companionship  was  always  inspiring 
to  his  friends.  His  profound  and  vast  learning, 
his  varied  information,  his  wide  acquaintance 
with  celebrated  persons,  his  ready  wit  and  rep- 
artee rendered  his  conversation  so  rich  and  enter- 
taining as  to  be  an  exceptional  privilege. 

In  "  Pericles  and  Aspasia,"  Cleone  has  written 
with  Landor's  pen,  that  **  study  is  the  bane  of 
boyhood,  the  aliment  of  youth,  the  indulgence 
of  manhood,  and  the  restorative  of  old  age."     Of 

285 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

this  theory  there  could  be  no  better  example 
than  Landor  himself.  That  life  which  outlasted 
all  the  friends  of  its  zenith  was  made  rich  by  a 
constant  devotion  to  the  greatest  works  of  the 
greatest  men.  Milton  and  Shakespeare  were  his 
constant  companions,  by  night  as  well  as  by  day. 
*'  I  never  tire  of  them,"  he  would  say  ;  "  they  are 
always  a  revelation.  And  how  grand  is  IVIilton's 
prose !  quite  as  fine  as  his  poetry  I  "  He  was 
said  to  be  very  fond  of  repeating  the  following 
celebrated  lines  that  have  the  ring  of  truth  : 

"  But  when  God  commands  to  take  the  trumpet 
And  blow  a  dolorous  or  thrilling  blast. 
It  rests  not  with  man's  will  what  he  shall  say 
Or  what  he  shall  conceal," 

"Was  anything  more  harmonious  ever  writ- 
ten ? "  Landor  would  ask.  "  But  Milton,  you 
know,  is  old-fashioned.  I  believe  I  am  old-fash- 
ioned. However,  it  is  rather  an  honor  to  be 
classed  thus,  if  one  may  keep  such  distinguished 
company."  How  devoted  a  student  of  JVIilton 
Landor  was  is  evidenced  in  his  delightful  critical 
conversation  between  Southey  and  himself, 
wherein  he  declared,  "  Such  stupendous  genius, 
so   much   fancy,   so  much   eloquence,  so  much 

286 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

vigor  of  intellect  never  were  united  as  in  Paradise 
Lost." 

In  18G1  Landor  sent  to  Kate  Field  the  last 
lines  he  ever  wrote,  addi'essed  to  the  English 
Homer,  entitled 

"MILTON   IN   ITALY. 

"  O  Milton  !  couldst  thou  rise  again,  and  see 
The  land  thou  lovedst  in  an  earlier  day ! 
See,  springing  from  her  tomb,  fair  Italy 
(Fairer  than  ever)  cast  her  shroud  away, — 
That  tightly-fastened  triply-folded  shroud  ! 
Around  her,  shameful  sight !  crowd  upon  crowd. 
Nations  in  agony  lie  speechless  down, 
And  Europe  trembles  at  a  despot's  frown." 

"We  took  many  drives  with  Landor  during 
the  spring  and  summer  of  18G1,  and  made  very- 
delightful  jaunts  into  the  country,"  wrote  IMiss 
Field  of  one  of  his  latest  summers. 

"  Not  forgetful  in  the  least  of  things,  the  old 
man,  in  spite  of  his  age,  would  always  insist  upon 
taking  the  front  seat,  and  was  more  active  than 
many  a  younger  man  in  assisting  us  in  and  out 
of  the  carriage.  '  You  are  the  most  genuinely 
polite  man  I  know,'  once  wTote  Lady  Blessington 
to  him.     The  verdict   of  1840  could   not   have 

287 


THE  FLORENCE  OF  LANDOR 

been  overruled  twenty-one  years  later.  Once 
we  drove  up  to '  aerial  Fiesole,'  and  never  can  I 
forget  Landor's  manner  while  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  his  former  home.  It  had  been  proposed 
that  we  should  turn  back  when  only  half-way  up 
the  hill.  *  Ah,  go  a  little  farther,'  Landor  said 
nervously ;  *  I  should  hke  to  see  my  villa.'  Of 
course  his  wish  was  our  pleasure,  and  so  the 
drive  was  continued.  Landor  sat  immovable, 
with  head  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  Villa 
Gherardesca.  At  first  sight  of  it  he  gave  a  sud- 
den start,  and  genuine  tears  filled  his  eyes  and 
coursed  down  his  cheeks.  '  There 's  where  I  Uved,' 
he  said,  breaking  a  long  silence  and  pointing  to 
his  old  estate.  Still  we  mounted  the  hill,  and 
when  at  a  turn  in  the  road  the  villa  stood  out 
before  us  clearly  and  distinctly,  Landor  said, 
'  Let  us  give  the  horses  a  rest  here  I '  We 
stopped,  and  for  several  minutes  Landor's  gaze  was 
fixed  upon  the  villa.  *  There  now,  we  can  return 
to  Florence,  if  you  like,'  he  murmured,  finally, 
vidth  a  deep  sigh.  *  I  have  seen  it  probably  for  the 
last  time.'  Hardly  a  word  was  spoken  during 
the  drive  home.  Landor  seemed  to  be  absent- 
minded.  A  sadder,  more  pathetic  picture  than 
he  made  during  this  memorable  drive  is  rarely 

288 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

seen.  '  With  me  life  lias  been  a  failure,'  was  the 
expression  of  that  wretched,  worn  face.  Those 
who  believe  Landor  to  have  been  devoid  of 
heart  should  have  seen  him  then." 

To  the  visitor  in  Florence,  Villa  Landor  is  still 
one  of  the  objects  of  piltrrimage,  and  to  its  history 
since  the  death  of  the  poet  has  been  added  a 
chapter  of  rich  memories  in  its  having  been  the 
home,  for  more  than  twenty  years,  of  Prof  Dan- 
iel Willard  Fiske,  formerly  of  Cornell  University. 
Professor  Fiske  restored  the  special  features  of 
the  villa  as  it  had  been  during  Landor's  day  ;  but 
while  preserving  its  historic  aspect,  Professor 
Fiske  fitted  up  the  villa  with  every  modern 
convenience,  and  furnished  it  with  the  most  ex- 
quisite taste.  It  is  a  spacious  dwelling,  with  lofty 
salons  on  three  floors.  Rich  rugs,  woven  ex- 
pressly to  the  order  of  Professor  Fiske  in  Damas- 
cus ;  rare  carvings,  inlaid  mosaics,  decorated 
ceilings,  and  every  conceivable  luxury  of  a  beauti- 
ful home  filled  the  rooms  pervaded  by  the  genius 
of  Walter  Savage  Landor.  For  it  was  here  that 
he  had  written  those  brilliant  "  Imaginary  Con- 
versations "  and  nearly  all  his  poems.  The  dining- 
room,  which  was  the  scene  of  the  famous  fray 

19  28y 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

which  terminated  in  INIr.  Landor's  throwing  his 
cook  out  of  the  window,  still  has  that  violet  bed 
beneath  its  windows,  which  the  irascible  poet 
feared  he  had  injured,  oblivious  to  any  danger  of 
a  broken  neck  to  his'  victim.  Above  the  dining- 
room  is  the  room  that  Landor  used  for  his  study 
—  the  windows  framing  another  of  those  beauti- 
ful views  that  are  enjoyed  in  every  direction  from 
Florence. 

In  one  of  the  salons  Professor  Fiske  had  the 
portrait  medallion  head  of  Landor  carved  in  stone 
over  one  of  the  mantelpieces.  The  choice  books, 
many  rare  editions  of  beautiful  folios,  add  distinc- 
tion to  the  library.  Every  room  held  its  enchant- 
ment in  artistic  interest.  Professor  Fiske  was  very 
hospitable,  seldom  being  without  guests  under 
his  roof.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich 
passed  a  part  of  one  winter  with  him.  Professor 
and  Mrs.  Goldwin  Smith  were  his  guests  for  some 
weeks,  and  many  foreigners  of  distinction  visited 
him.  He  was  a  reticent  man,  with  a  settled  sad- 
ness of  manner  ;  but  when  he  was  stimulated  to 
his  best  by  the  congenial  atmosphere  of  some 
group  of  near  friends,  his  conversation  was  de- 
lightful. 

By  a  curious  coincidence.  Professor  Fiske  died 
290 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

on  the  fortieth  anniversary  of  Landor's  death.  To 
literature,  I'rofessor  Fiske  has  rendered  a  great 
serviee  in  the  collection  of  a  specialist  library  of 
Dante,  of  Petrarcha,  and  of  Icelandic  literature. 
The  Dante  collection  he  had  already  presented 
to  Cornell  University  ;  that  of  the  other  two  were 
placed  in  Florence,  forming  one  of  the  most  ideal 
of  libraries,  and  one  which,  by  the  kind  courtesy 
of  Professor  Fiske,  it  was  the  privilege  of  some 
tourists  to  visit.  Professor  Fiske  domiciled  this 
rare  and  exquisite  collection  in  a  noble  apartment 
in  a  palace  on  the  Via  Lungo  il  JMugnone,  facing 
the  purple  mountains.  The  spacious  apartment 
was  luxuriously  fitted  up  with  rich  rugs,  a  great  li- 
brary-table, with  every  convenience  and  ornament; 
the  walls  of  the  room  were  lined  with  the  books, 
running  up  to  the  Pompeian  red  frieze.  Professor ' 
Fiske  had  two  secretaries  constantly  in  attendance 
—  one  an  Italian  for  the  Petrarcha  collection,  and 
a  Dane  (or  Norwegian)  for  the  Icelandic.  It  is  a 
very  rare  and  a  very  notable  achievement  to  have 
brought  together  such  a  threefold  collection  as 
that  of  Professor  Fiske,  —  an  achievement  that 
required  not  only  the  finest  taste  and  the  most 
liberal  scholarship,  but  also  the  wealth  to  make 
possible  such  fulfilment  of  an  ideal.     INIany  who 

'291 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

might  have  the  scholarly  knowledge  and  the 
taste  would  be  unable  to  command  the  required 
wealth  ;  others,  more  numerous,  who  might  easily 
command  the  wealth,  would  be  far  from  possess- 
ing the  requisite  knowledge  and  the  literary  taste 
inspiring  such  a  work.  It  is  a  monument  to  ele- 
gant scholarship.  The  present  collection  is  an 
evolutionary  result,  so  to  speak,  of  an  idea  that 
occurred  to  Professor  Fiske  in  the  spring  of  1892, 
when,  as  he  was  searching  for  Petrarcha  books  in 
an  old  Italian  shop,  he  chanced  upon  a  copy  of 
the  "  Divina  Commedia  "  dated  1536,  which  he 
immediately  purchased.  For  three  years  the  pro- 
fessor continued  his  quest  and  his  purchases. 

"  I  not  only  wandered  through  the  bookshops 
of  all  the  larger  and  many  of  the  smaller  cities  of 
Italy,"  he  said,  "  but  visited,  more  than  once,  the 
principal  book  marts  of  Great  Britain,  France, 
Belgium,  Germany,  Switzerland,  and  Austria, 
my  journeys  extending  northward  to  Edinburgh 
and  Stockholm.  When  not  travelling  or  buying 
I  was  conning  catalogues  or  corresponding  M'ith 
booksellers,  publishers,  and  librarians  in  all  the 
lands  lying  between  Brazil  and  India,  between 
Lisbon  and  St.  Petersburg." 

Curiously,  the  city  that  yielded  him  the  larg- 
292 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

est  and  most  important  results  in  Dantean  litera- 
ture was  London,  where  Professor  Fiske  found 
a  dealer  who  had  aceumulated  a  private  Dante 
library.  After  London  he  found  the  most  pro- 
ductive markets  in  Florence,  Rome,  JNIilan, 
Turin,  and  Paris.  The  scholarly  quest  seems  to 
have  abounded  in  pleasant  incidents.  "  When  I 
chanced  in  Perugia  to  inquire  at  a  street  book 
stall  in  relation  to  Dante,"  said  Professor  Fiske, 
*  an  elderly  bystander  —  whom  I  afterward  grew 
to  know  as  a  dehghtful  scholar  and  gentleman  — 
turned  to  me,  saying  that  he  himself  owned  a 
small  Dante  collection,  which  he  should  take 
pleasure  in  showing  me.  Repairing  with  him  to 
his  home,  I  was  taken  to  a  little  room,  wherein 
were  two  or  three  presses  filled  with  Dante  lit- 
erature, including  nearly  every  opuscule  concern- 
ing the  poet  which  had  been  issued  in  L^mbria 
or  thereabouts,  of  most  of  which  the  \'arious 
local  librarians  I  had  previously  consulted  had 
avowed  their  complete  ignorance.  Their  pos- 
sessor insisted  upon  my  taking  them  all  without 
payment,  saying  that  his  own  little  collection 
was  of  slight  importance  compared  to  the  large 
one  I  was  endeavoring  to  bring  together.  It 
was  only  on  my  positively  declining   to  accept 

293 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

his  too  liberal  offer  that  he  consented  to  let  me 
send  him  in  exchange  other  works  on  the  same 
theme  which  he  lacked." 

This  magnificent  gift  to  Cornell  must  be  a 
feature  that  will  always  attract  students  of  Itahan 
literature  and  poetry  to  that  university,  and  en- 
able it  to  hold  a  kind  of  perpetual  festival  of 
scholarship.  Of'  the  supreme  power  of  Dante, 
Lowell  well  said :  "  Almost  all  the  other  poets 
have  their  seasons,  but  Dante  penetrates  to 
the  moral  core  of  those  who  once  fairly  come 
within  his  sphere,  and  possesses  them  wholly. 
His  readers  turn  students,  his  students  zealots, 
and  what  was  a  taste  becomes  a  religion. 
If  Shakespeare  be  the  most  comprehensive 
intellect,  so  Dante  is  the  highest  spiritual 
nature  that  has  expressed  itself  in  rhythmical 
form." 

The  atmosphere  of  scholarly  culture  and  lofty 
aspiration  with  which  Landor  invested  his  home 
was  revived  by  Daniel  Willard  Fiske  during  his 
tenure  of  the  villa.  Again  was  it  pervaded  by 
intellectual  activities  of  a  high  order  and  by  the 
social  charm  of  lovely  friends  who  lingered  there. 
With  this  wealth  of  association  and  its  romantic 
environment.  Villa   Landor  will  remain  one  of 

294 


THE  TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

the  monuments  of  Florence,  invested  with  a  rich 
and  varied  interest. 

Landor  remained  for  some  weeks  as  the  guest 
of  the  Storys,  and  later  in  his  little  casa  in  Siena, 
until  the  late  autumn  days  of  1859  called  the 
Brownings  back  to  Florence,  and  the  Storys  to 
Rome.  He  loved  the  strange  mediaeval  town  ; 
for  in  Siena  one  feels  that  life  of  the  fourteenth 
century  when  this  city  was  the  successful  rival 
of  Florence.  It  is  an  example  of  arrested  devel- 
opment. Florence  has  progi-essed.  Siena  has 
stood  still.  Its  narrow,  dark  streets,  which  seem 
like  wells  at  the  foot  of  tlie  lofty  stone  buildings, 
are  still  traversed  by  white  oxen  and  an  occa- 
sional donkey  cart.  The  streets  are  so  steep 
that  on  most  of  them  no  horse  could  keep  his 
footing  on  their  stony  pavement,  and  some  of 
them,  indeed,  are  more  like  stone  staircases  than 
streets. 

Siena  is  a  Tuscan  to^v^l,  about  fifty  miles  from 
Florence,  but  the  journey  requires  some  five 
hours,  as  the  Italian  trains  offer  the  maximum  of 
delay  and  discomfort  to  the  minimum  of  dis- 
tance. It  is  a  walled  city  with  nine  gates,  and 
the  city  is  absolutely  limited  to  the  space  within 
the  walls.     It  has  never  diffused  itself  into  sub- 

295 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

urbs,  and  outside  the  wall  there  is  the  unbroken 
stretch  of  country.  It  is  located  on  the  summits 
of  three  hills,  and  all  the  country  roads  lead  up 
to  the  nine  gates.  The  view  from  the  citadel  is 
unique  in  all  Europe.  One  looks  down  on  the 
surrounding  country,  while  in  the  distance  from 
eight  to  ten  lines  of  mountain  ranges  are  seen, 
one  after  another,  each  undulating  horizon  line 
growing  feinter  and  fainter  as  it  recedes.  The 
ground  is  of  a  brown  tint,  from  which  the  name 
of  Siena  brown.  A  soft  haze  of  purples  and  the 
most  delicate  suggestion  of  rose  and  mauve  form 
a  transparent  veil  over  the  landscape,  while  cas- 
tles, towers,  convents,  and  campaniles  diversify 
all  the  hillsides  in  this  great  sweep  of  country. 

The  civilization  about  Siena  is  very  old,  and 
the  people  are  proud  of  their  university  (whose 
specialties  are  law  and  medicine)  of  the  purity  of 
Italian  as  spoken  by  Sienese  scholars,  and  of  the 
galleries  where  Sienese  art  can  be  studied  chro- 
nologically and  in  its  completeness. 

The  home  and  haunts  of  Catharine  of  Siena 
form  an  object  of  pilgrimage.  Catharine  was 
born  in  1347  and  died  in  1380.  Her  father  was 
a  dyer,  and  their  home  and  the  shop  were  in 
the  Contrado  d'Oca,  a  depressed  district  of  poor 

296" 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

people.  The  liouse  and  shop  stand  to-day  as 
they  stood  during  her  hfetinie,  and  over  the 
door  is  ^vritten  in  gold  letters,  "  Sposae  Christi 
Catharine  Domus."  On  the  adjoining  hill  stands 
the  vast  church  of  St.  Doniinico,  in  the  chapel  of 
which  Catharine  prayed  and  saw  visions. 

"  Catharine  of  Siena  was  to  the  fourteenth 
century  what  St.  Bernard  was  to  the  twelfth,  — 
the  light  and  support  of  the  Church.  xVt  the 
moment  when  the  bark  of  St.  Peter  was  most 
strongly  agitated  by  the  tempest,  God  gave  it 
for  pilot  a  poor  young  girl  who  was  concealing 
herself  in  the  little  shop  of  a  dyer.  Catharine 
travelled  to  France  to  lead  the  Pontiff  Greg- 
ory XI.  away  from  the  delights  of  his  native 
land  ;  she  brought  back  the  Popes  to  Rome,  the 
real  centre  of  Christianity.  She  addressed  her- 
self to  cardinals,  princes,  and  kings.  .  .  .  By  the 
power  of  her  eloquence  and  the  ardor  of  her 
piety  she  succeeded  as  a  mediator  between  Flor- 
ence and  her  native  city,  and  between  Florence 
and  the  Pope.  .  .  .  Like  St.  Francis,  St.  Ber- 
nard, and  Savonarola,  Catharine  became  the  fear- 
less monitor  of  the  Church  and  a  prophet  to  it 
of  warning  and  rebuke." 

297 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

The  impressiveness  of  all  this  scenery  of  her 
life  cannot  be  imagined  until  one  is  in  the  midst 
of  it.  The  house  where  she  lived  has  been  be- 
reft of  much  of  its  interest  by  the  converting  of 
all  its  rooms  into  chapels  which  are  not  distinc- 
tive ;  but  there  is  still  shown  the  little  cell  where 
she  slept,  —  a  tiny  recess  in  the  wall  with  a 
stone  floor  on  which  she  lay,  refusing  comfort  or 
warmth,  and  it  is  related  that  she  always  con- 
tinued in  prayer  until  the  matin  sounded  from 
St.  Dominico,  in  order  that  the  district  in  which 
she  lived  might  never  be  without  its  devotions 
ascending  to  God.  There  are  shown  certain 
relics,  —  the  lantern  she  carried  when  on  her 
ministering  errands  at  night  about  Siena ;  the 
cap  she  wore,  and  her  prayer,  printed  on  slips 
that  the  tourist  may  buy. 

The  Church  of  St.  Dominico  is  one  of  the 
most  curious  of  the  old  medieeval  structures.  It 
dates  back  to  the  twelfth  centuiy,  and  has  appa- 
rently been  very  little  altered  since  that  time. 
It  is  perfectly  bare  in  its  interior,  nor  are  the 
chapels  particularly  rich,  although  there  are  a 
few  paintings  and  pieces  of  sculptures  that  are 
worth  seeing.  The  little  chapel  where  Catharine 
held  her  protracted  vigils  is  kept  in  semi-privacy, 

298 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

and  one  enters  by  special  permission  only.  On 
the  stone  floor  there  is  a  red  heart  inlaid  with  the 
inscription  that  on  that  spot  Christ  changed  the 
heart  of  Catharine.  Over  the  door  of  this  chapel 
is  inscribed : 

"  Haec  tenet  ara  caput  Catharinae  ;  corda  respiris  ? 
Haec  iniio  Christus  pectore  clausa  tenet." 

Practically  the  church  is  unchanged,  and  one 
wanders  through  its  vast  and  rather  gloomy  in- 
terior ;  lingers  in  the  chapel  where  Catharine  saw 
visions  and  dreamed  dreams,  and  where  her  head 
is  preserved  in  a  silver  reliquary,  w^hile  her  body 
is  entombed  in  Rome,  It  is  related  that  when 
she  was  six  years  old  she  saw  a  vision  of  Jesus 
in  the  golden  clouds  of  the  evening,  and  that  He 
smiled  upon  her,  extending  his  hands  in  blessing. 
At  another  time  in  her  childhood  she  longed  to 
go  to  the  desert,  and  she  actually  left  the  city 
and  found  a  grotto  in  a  hill,  where,  she  said,  God 
came  to  her  and  told  her  she  had  another  work 
in  life  to  do  than  that  of  seeking  solitude,  and 
that  she  must  return  to  her  father's  house.  At 
another  time  she  said  that  the  Lord  thus  coun- 
selled her  when  she  had  desired  to  seclude  herself 
from  men :  — 

299 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

*'  Be  calm,  my  child  ;  thou  must  accomplish 
all  justice  that  my  grace  may  become  fruitful 
in  thee  and  in  others.  I  desu'e  not  that  thou 
shouldst  be  separated  from  me  ;  on  the  contrary, 
I  desire  that  thou  shouldst  become  more  closely 
nnited  to  me  by  charity  toward  thy  fellow- 
creatures.  Thou  knowest  that  love  has  two 
commandments,  to  love  me  and  to  love  thy 
neighbor.  I  desire  that  thou  shouldst  walk,  not 
on  one,  but  on  two  feet,  and  fly  to  heaven  on 
two  wings." 

This  counsel  is  well  worth  remembering  in  its 
breadth  of  application  to  life. 

Siena  is  the  one  place  in  which  to  study  the 
great  frescoes  of  Sodoma.  In  the  Palazza  Pub- 
lico one  finds  his  figures  of  St.  Ansano  and  St. 
Vittorio,  San  Bernardo,  the  Holy  Family,  and 
other  of  his  most  important  works. 

Once  a  year,  on  St.  Catharine's  day,  which  all 
Siena  regards  as  a  "  festa,"  celebrating  with  pro- 
cessions and  banners  and  high  mass,  the  head  of 
Catharine  is  exhibited  to  the  people.  The  story 
of  Catharine's  miraculous  life  is  too  authentic 
in  history  to  admit  of  doubt.  John  Addington 
Symonds  says  of  her  :  "  She  walked  surrounded 

300 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

by  a  spiritual  world,  environed  by  angels.  Her 
habits  were  calculated  to  foster  this  disposition. 
She  took  little  sleep ;  she  ate  nothing  but  vege- 
tables and  the  sacred  wafer  of  the  host,  entirely 
abjuring  wine  and  meat.  This  diet  depressed 
the  physical  forces  and  exalted  the  nervous  sys- 
tem. Thoughts  became  things,  and  ideas  were 
projected  from  her  vivid  fancy  upon  the  empty 
air  about  her." 

In  the  light  of  modern  psychical  research,  how- 
ever, it  is  certainly  conceivable  that  this  deple- 
tion of  the  physical  and  exaltation  of  the  nervous 
system  may,  instead  of  producing  hallucination, 
have  produced  receptivity  instead ;  that  it  may 
have  permitted  her  to  see  what  truly  existed, 
but  that  to  which  ordinary  life  is  blind.  The 
world  of  the  unseen  is  as  real  —  is  far  more  real, 
indeed  —  than  the  world  of  the  seen.  It  is  a 
realm  where  ever}i:hing  is  in  a  state  of  higher 
vibration,  and  is  thus  only  visible  to  the  most 
sensitive  and  exalted  conditions.  All  these  won- 
derful and  mystic  legends  and  history  regarding 
Catharine  of  Siena  seem  not  iml inked  with  the 
facts  and  results  that  invest  psychic  research  in 
the  present  day. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  places  in   Italy 

301 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

is  this  Tuscan  town  of  Siena.  The  interior  of 
the  cathedral  is  all  in  black  and  white,  with 
curious  effects  of  interarching  and  some  of  the 
finest  wood  carvings  in  the  entire  world. 

Siena  is  a  living  page  out  of  history,  and,  after 
Rome,  Venice,  and  Florence,  there  is  no  ques- 
tion but  that  Siena  is  the  most  important  city  in 
Italy  for  the  visitor  to  study. 

The  journey  between  Florence  and  Siena  has 
perpetual  change  and  charm.  The  hills  are 
crowned  with  castles,  towers,  convents,  and 
campaniles  which  silhouette  themselves  against 
the  sky,  and  the  wooded  valleys  are  full  of  wind- 
ing roadways  and  mysterious  lights  ;  the  horizon 
shows  sometimes  eight  or  ten  undulating  lines 
of  mountain  ranges  ending  in  a  line  of  snow, 
with  the  most  delicate  play  of  colors  in 
the  foreground,  —  purple  and  rose  and  pale 
greens,  —  while  the  old  gray  stone  houses, 
often  fortified  just  as  they  stood  six  hundred 
years  ago,  are  surrounded  by  the  silvery  hue  of 
the  gray-green  olive  orchards,  and  defined  by 
the  tall,  solemn  cypress  trees  that  stand  like 
grim  sentinels. 

To  what  degi'ee  Siena  impressed  Landor  is  not 
recorded  in  any  of  his  writings.     Doubtless  he 

302 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE'  GODS 

had  before  visited  the  old  city  ;  but  at  this  time 
—  in  his  extreme  old  age  —  it  was  his  friends 
and  his  literary  work  that  engaged  his  interest. 
The  composition  of  a  Latin  verse  enlisted  his 
attention  far  more  deeply  than  art,  myth,  or 
legend.  The  scenery  of  memory  absorbed  him 
rather  than  that  of  the  outer  world. 

On  their  return  to  Florence,  ISIr.  Browning  es- 
tabhshed  Landor  in  a  little  casa  (number  2671) 
in  the  Via  Nunziatina  near  the  Church  of  the 
Carmine  and  also  near  Casa  Guidi.  The  little 
street,  whose  name  has  now  been  changed,  is  in 
one  of  the  most  picturesque  parts  of  Florence, 
and  its  high  antique  buildings  hold  always  a 
nameless  charm  for  the  visitor.  Mrs.  Browning  s 
own  maid,  Wilson,  who  had  married  an  Italian, 
was  placed  in  charge  of  Landor  s  household,  and 
with  his  books  about  him,  reading  Odyssey  in 
the  original  and  happy  in  acquiring  new  pictures 
by  Domenichino  and  Poussin,  —  problematic  as 
was  their  genuineness,  —  Landor  passed  his  time 
^^^th  his  books  and  his  thoughts.  "  Nothing," 
he  wrote  in  a  letter  to  John  Forster  about  this 
time,  "  can  exceed  JMr.  Browning  s  continued 
kindness.  Life  would  be  almost  worth  keeping 
for  that  recollection  alone." 

303 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

And  Browning  wrote  of  Landor  to  Mr. 
Forster :  — 

"At  present  Landor 's  conduct  is  faultless. 
His  wants  are  so  moderate,  his  evenness  of  tem- 
per so  remarkable,  his  gentleness  and  readiness 
to  be  advised  so  exemplary,  that  it  all  seems  too 
good  ;  as  if  some  rock  must  lurk  under  such 
smooth  water.  His  thankfulness  for  the  least 
attention,  and  anxiety  to  return  it,  are  almost 
affecting  under  all  circumstances.  He  leads  a 
life  of  the  utmost  simplicity." 

The  Bro^Miings  had  arranged  to  pass  this  win- 
ter of  1859-60,  in  Rome,  and  Mr.  Browning  spoke 
to  friends  of  his  regret  in  this  absence  from  the 
wonderful  old  man,  whose  gentle  courtesy  and 
benignancy  increased  during  their  closer  inter- 
course. They  often  walked  for  two  hours  to- 
gether in  rambles  about  Florence.  "  He  writes 
Latin  verses,"  says  Browning  of  him ;  *'  few 
English,  but  a  few  ;  and  just  before  we  left  Siena 
an  imaginary  conversation  suggested  by  some- 
thing one  of  us  had  said  about  the  possible  re- 
appearance of  the  body  after  death.  He  looks 
better  than  ever  by  the  amplitude  of  a  capital 
beard,  most  becoming,  we   all  judge   it."     "  If 

304 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

you  could  only  see  how  well  he  looks  in  his 
curly  white  beard  ! "  ]\Irs.  Browning  wrote  in  a 
letter  to  England. 

Mr.  Burne- Jones  and  Mr.  Val  Prinsep  were 
in  Rome  also  that  season  carrying  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  the  Brownings  from  Ilossetti, 
and  the  Brownings  also  met  and  knew  Cardinal 
(then  Dr.)  Manning,  in  Rome  that  winter.  "•  We 
left  INIr.  Landor  in  great  comfort,"  JNIrs.  Brown- 
ing writes  from  Rome  to  a  friend.  "  I  w^ent  to  see 
his  apartment  before  it  was  furnished.  Rooms 
small,  but  with  a  lookout  into  a  little  garden  ; 
quiet  and  cheerful.  .  .  .  His  genius  gives  him 
the  right  of  gratitude  on  the  part  of  all  artists 
at  least." 

The  rooms  all  opened  into  each  other,  and  in 
the  sitting-room  Landor  was  usually  to  be  found, 
"  sitting  in  a  large  arm-chair,  surrounded  by  paint- 
ings, which  he  declared  he  could  not  live  without 
(all  of  them  very  bad  for  the  most  part,  except- 
ing one  genuine  small  Salvator),  his  hair  snowy 
white  and  his  beard  of  patriarchal  proportions, 
his  gray  eyes  still  keen  and  clear,  his  grand  head 
not  unlike  Michael  Angelo's  IMoses,  and  at  his 
feet  a  pretty  little  Pomeranian  dog  called  Gaillo, 
the  gift  of  Mr.  A\'illiam  Story." 

20  305 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

In  the  following  June  the  Brownings  returned 
from  Rome,  and  of  Landor  JMr.  Browning  says : 

"  I  find  him  very  well,  satisfied  on  the  whole, 
busy  with  verse-making,  and  particularly  de- 
lighted at  the  acquisition  of  three  execrable  daubs 
by  Domenichino  and  Caspar  Poussin,  most  be- 
nevolently battered  by  time.  He  has  a  beautiful 
beard,  foam-white  and  soft.  He  reads  the 
Odyssey  in  the  original  with  extraordinary  ease. 
When  he  alludes  to  that  other  matter,  it  is  clear 
that  he  is,  from  whatever  peculiarity,  quite  imper- 
vious to  reasoning  or  common-sense.  He  cannot 
in  the  least  understand  that  he  is  at  all  wrong,  or 
injudicious,  or  unwary,  or  unfortunate  in  anything, 
but  in  the  being  prevented  by  you  from  doubling 
and  quadrupling  the  offence.  He  spent  the  even- 
ing here  the  night  before  last.  Whatever  he  may 
profess,  the  thing  he  really  loves  is  a  pretty  girl 
to  talk  nonsense  with ;  and  he  finds  comfort 
in  American  visitors,  who  hold  him  in  proper 
respect." 

The  twilight  deepened.  His  faithful  friend, 
Mr.  Kirkup  continued  to  visit  him.  Algernon 
Charles  Swinburne  came  to  Florence  to  pay  his 
tribute  to  England's  oldest  living  poet,  and  later 

306 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

he  wrote  tlie  beautiful  lyric  which  forever  links 
the  names  of  those  who  were  at  tlie  time,  — 

"  The  youngest  and  the  oldest  singer 
That  England  bore." 


Mrs.  BrowTiing  died  in  June  of  1861,  leaving 
as  the  last  thing  she  had  touched,  a  half  finished 
letter  to  JNIme.  INIario  "  full  of  noble  words  about 
Italy."  The  death  of  Cavour  had  deeply  affected 
her.  ]Mr.  Brovniing  left  Italy,  never  to  return. 
"You  cannot  imagine  how  I  miss  him,"^  wrote 
Mr.  Story  to  Prof.  Charles  Eliot  Norton.  "  For 
three  years  now  we  have  always  been  together ; 
all  the  long  summer  evenings  of  these  last  sum- 
mers in  Siena  we  sat  on  our  terrace  night  after 
night,  talking,  or  we  played  and  sang  together. 
All  the  last  winters  he  worked  with  me  daily  for 
three  hours  in  my  studio  ;  and  we  met,  either  at 
my  house,  or  his,  or  at  that  of  some  friend,  nearly 
every  evening.  There  is  no  one  to  supply  his 
place.  .  .  .  No  one  with  whom  I  can  sympathize 
on  all  points  as  with  him,  no  one  \Wth  whom  I  can 
walk  any  of  the  higher  ranges  of  art  and  philoso- 
phy.    Mrs.  Browning  is  a  great  loss  to  Hterature 

1  William  Wetmore  Story  :  And  His  Friends.    Boston  :  Houghton, 
MifSin  and  Co. 

307 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

—  the  greatest  poet  among  women.  What 
energy  and  fire  there  was  in  that  httle  frame. 
Never  did  I  see  any  one,  whom  the  world  hastened 
to  crown,  who  had  so  Httle  vanity  and  so  much 
pure  humility." 

Isa  Blagden  went  with  JNIr.  Browning  to  Eng- 
land, where  she  was  to  have  had  a  villa  near  Miss 
Cobbe  ;  but  in  the  end  she  returns  to  Bellosguardo 
and  is  one  of  the  narrowing  circle  to  cheer 
Landor's  latest  days. 

During  the  last  year  of  his  life  he  collected  and 
revised  his  poems  that  appear  in  the  volume  en- 
titled '*  Heroic  Idylls,"  to  which  he  prefixed  a 
preface  that  runs  :  — 

"  He  who  is  within  two  paces  of  the  ninetieth 
year  may  sit  down  and  make  no  excuses ;  he 
must  be  unpopular,  he  never  tried  to  be  much 
otherwise,  he  never  contended  with  a  contempo- 
rary, but  walked  alone  on  the  far  eastern  uplands, 
meditating  and  remembering." 

The  Florence  on  which  Landor  closed  his  eyes 
was  the  Florence  of  the  Past  and  also  of  the  Pres- 
ent. Not  one  charm  of  all  its  dead  centuries  has 
it  ever  lost.  The  spell  of  enchantment  that 
brooded  over  the  eleventh  century  still  invests 

308 


MUNI  MK.N  r    TO     DWTi:     \  l.K.  1 1 1  Kli  I ,     U\     UK  (  1. 
Santa  Croce,  Florence. 


1 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

the  twentieth  century.      The  ages  only  glorify 
this  City  Beautiful. 

The  narrow,  winding  streets  with  their  arcades, 
their  overhanging  loggias,  the  glow  of  color  in 
niches  and  arch  that  surprises  the  eye,  are 
thronged  with  invisible  forms,  and  the  irregular 
stone  pavements  echo  to  the  tread  of  invisible 
footsteps.  Every  turn  is  invested  with  poetic 
legend ;  every  hour  is  filled  with  beauty.  A 
morning  atmosphere,  clear  as  crystal,  reveals  the 
mountain  ranges  in  tints  of  rose,  purple,  and 
azure,  veined  with  colors  that  sparkle  and  change 
before  the  gaze  like  the  flash  of  jewels.  Again 
a  wraith-like  haze  veils  valley  and  mountains  in 
the  softest  blue  air,  that  half  reveals  and  half  con- 
ceals the  towers  and  the  ancient  walls.  Looking 
out  on  these  and  on  the  old  church  of  the  Car- 
mine, Landor  might  have  said  with  Dante : 

"  I  lift  mine  eyes  and  all  the  windows  blaze 
With  forms  of  Saints  and  holy  men  who  died 
Here  martyred  and  hereafter  glorified  : 
And  the  great  Rose  upon  its  leaves  displays 
Christ's  triumph,  and.  the  angelic  roundelays 
With  splendor  upon  splendor  multiplied  ; 
And  Beatrice  again  at  Dante's  side 
No  more  rebukes,  but  smiles  her  words  of  praise ; 
And  then  the  organ  sounds,  and  unseen  choirs 
309 


THE  FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

Sing  the  old  Latin  hymns  of  peace  and  love 
And  benedictions  of  the  Holy  Christ ; 
And  the  melodious  bells  among  the  spires 
O'er  all  the  housetops  and  through  Heaven  above 
Proclaim  the  elevation  of  the  Host !  " 

During  all  the  last  dozen  years  or  more  of 
Landor's  life  he  seemed  to  constantly  anticipate 
death.  As  early  as  in  1857  when  he  arranged 
that  collection  of  his  poems  that  appears  under 
the  title  of  "  Dry  Sticks,"  he  insisted  on  placing 
his  name  on  the  title-page  as  "  the  late  "  W.  S. 
Landor.  His  publisher,  Mr.  Nichol  of  Edin- 
burgh wrote  to  him  saying :  — 

"  I  take  the  liberty  of  begging  you  to  allow 
me  to  make  the  title  stand  thus ;  '  Dry  Sticks 
Faggoted  by  W.  S.  Landor,'  and  not,  as  you 
still  continue  to  write  it,  the  late  W.  S.  Landor. 
It  will  sufficiently  pain  many  when  in  God's 
good  time  you  will  be  spoken  of  as  '  the  late ' ; 
and  I  think  the  expression  would  jar  on  the  ear 
of  all  your  friends  as  it  does  on  mine." 

About  that  time  Landor  wrote  to  John 
Forster :  — 

"  Why  cannot  this  swimming  of  the  head 
carry  me  to   the  grave   a   little   more   rapidly  ? 

810 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

This  is  the  only  thing  I  now  desire.  I  remem- 
ber faces  and  places,  but  their  names  I  totally 
forget.  A'erses  of  the  Odyssey  and  the  Iliad, 
run  perpetually  in  my  mind,  after  the  better 
part  of  a  century,  and  there  seems  to  be  no  room 
for  anjlhing  else." 

In  his  Ode  to  Southey,  written  at  an  earlier 
period  than  this,  Landor  had  said  :  — 

"  We  hurry  to  the  river  we  must  cross, 

And  swifter  downward  every  footstep  wends  ; 
Happy  who  reach  it  ere  they  count  the  loss 
Of  half  their  faculties  and  half  their  friends  !  " 

The  student  of  Landor  cannot  but  note  with 
some  amusement,  irreverent  though  it  may  seem, 
his  habit  of  ^vriting  epitaphs  for  himself.  The 
followinfif  Latin  stanza  is  one  of  these  :  — 


'O 


"  Ut  sine  censura,  sine  laude  inscripta,  sepulcro 
Sint  patris  ac  matris  nomina  sola  meo : 
At  pura  invidiae,  sua  gloria  rara,  poetae 
Incumbente  rosa  laurus  obumbret  humum." 

This  half-poetic,  half-melancholy  attitude  to- 
ward death  was,  however,  in  the  very  spirit  of 
the  age  in  which  Landor  lived.  Mrs.  Bro\vning 
and  other  persons  of  exceptional  development 
spiritually,  escaped  this  tendency  of  the  day  to 

311 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

contemplate  death  in  its  mere  physical  aspect. 
The  one  grave  defect  running  through  the  char- 
acter of  Landor,  or,  as  it  might  better  be  said, 
the  one  serious  misfortune  of  his  life,  was  his  ina- 
bility to  so  comprehend  the  true  nature  of  life  as 
to  see  death  in  its  just  relation — merely  one 
event  in  evolutionary  progress.  Religion  as  well 
as  science  is  progressive  in  that  each  continually 
gi-asps  larger  truth ;  and  the  closing  years  of  the 
nineteenth  century  brought  to  bear  on  human 
life  a  wonderful  quickening  of  perception  regard- 
ing spiritual  truth,  and  the  power  to  receive  anew, 
and  realize  with  a  far  deeper  significance,  the 
revelation  and  the  teachings  of  Jesus,  the  Christ. 
The  twilight  deepened  into  dusk.  It  was,  in- 
deed, the  twilight  of  the  gods.  The  old  man 
was  but  groping  his  way  through  the  gathering 
shadows.  All  his  old  friends  save  Mr.  Kirkup 
who  continued  to  visit  him,  had  vanished.  Those 
whose  footsteps  had  been,  with  his  own,  bathed 
in  the  dew  of  Parnassus,  were  all  gone.  Mr. 
Browning  made  constant  friendly  inquiries,  but 
he  could  never  look  again  upon  Florence  now 
that  his  "star,"  —  the  star  that  '*  opened  its  soul  " 
to  him,  had  vanished  from  earthly  gaze.  But 
Landor  had  his  poems  and  his  thoughts.     His 

312 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

favorite  classics  were  about  him.  On  one  night 
not  long  before  his  death  the  old  man  rang  for 
his  attendant  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morninii", 
and  insisted  upon  having  the  room  lighted  and 
the  windows  thrown  open.  He  then  asked  for  a 
pen  ;  he  wrote  a  few  lines  of  poetry,  then,  leaning 
back,  said,  ^'  I  shall  never  write  again.  Put  out 
the  lights  and  draw  the  curtains." 

On  the  seventeenth  of  September,  18G4,  Landor 
was  released  from  the  worn-out  physical  body 
and  entered  on  the  life  radiant  amid  that  loveli- 
ness which  eye  hath  not  seen  nor  ear  heard,  nor 
hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  concei\e 
of  its  glory. 

"  A  night  of  memories  and  of  sighs  " 

And  then  the  dawn  of  the  Immortal  Day. 

In  the  literary  Vtdhalla  Landor  s  fame  rests 
secure.  The  defect  of  his  work  is  its  lack  of  spir- 
itual confidence.  He  had  ftiiled  to  lay  hold  on 
immortality  with  that  abounding  faith  and  exqui- 
site certainty  of  recognition  which  imparts  to  life 
the  glow  and  energy  of  achievement,  and  the  joy 
that  no  man  taketh  from  another.  In  this  defect 
he  did  not  rise  above  the  general  environment  of 
his  age  as  those  more  spiritually  developed  were 

313 


THE   FLORENCE   OF  LANDOR 

enabled  to  do,  in  ascending  into  the  more  joyous 
ethereal  atmosphere.  This  was  the  misfortune  of 
temperament  rather  than  the  fault  of  conscious 
intention.  This  loftier  development  of  his  noble 
intellectual  powers  awaited  him  farther  on  in 
the  eternal  progress.  John  Forster,  his  biog- 
rapher, admirably  sums  up  Landor's  life  when 
he  says: —  o, 

"  To  the  end  we  see  him  as  it  were  unconquer- 
able. He  keeps  an  unquailing  aspect  to  the  very 
close.  But  he  is  only  un vanquished ;  he  is  not 
the  victor.  .  .  .  Greatness  there  was  always  ;  a 
something  of  the  heroic  element  which  lifted  him, 
in  nearly  all  that  he  said  and  very  much  that  he 
did,  considerably  above  ordinary  stature ;  but 
never  to  be  admitted  or  described  without  impor- 
tant drawbacks.  What  was  wanting  most,  in  his 
books  and  his  life  alike,  was  the  submission  to 
some  kind  of  law.  .  .  .  But  though  he  would  not 
accept  those  rules  of  obedience  without  which  no 
man  can  wisely  govern  either  himself  or  others  ; 
and  though  he  lived  far  beyond  the  allotted  term 
of  life  without  discovering  that  all  the  world  is 
wiser  than  any  one  man  in  the  world  ;  his  genius 
was  yet  in  itself  so  commanding  and  consummate 

314 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

as  to  bring  into  play  tlie  nobler  part  of  his  cliar- 
acter  only,  and  by  this  his  influence  will  remain 
over  others.  .  .  .  To  refuse  the  recognition  of 
any  strength  but  one's  own  .  .  .  and  to  rest  all 
claim  to  magnanimity  and  honor  on  self-assertion 
rather  than  self-denial,  cannot  but  be  a  grave 
fault  in  the  conduct  of  life  in  modern  times  ;  but 
shift  it  back  into  classic  ages,  and  the  heroes  of 
Greece  and  Rome  take  visible  shape  once  more." 

This  last  statement  contains  the  key-note  to 
Landor's  character.  He  was  essentially  of  clas- 
sic mould ;  and  his  virtues  and  his  defects  were 
those  seen  in  such  high  relief  in  any  study  of  the 
Golden  Age  of  Greece. 

A  man,  however,  is  entitled  to  be  judged  by 
his  noblest  moments.  Landor's  entire  character 
was  of  the  heroic  quality.  His  liberal  sympa- 
thies, his  hatred  of  all  tyranny  and  oppression, 
and  his  great  tenderness  of  nature  must  endear 
him  to  all  who  appreciate  the  majesty  of  his 
genius  as  revealed  in  his  work. 

In  the  little  English  cemetery,  consecrated  by 
the  tomb  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  whose 
earthly  form  was  laid  away  in  the  marble  de- 
signed  by  her  friend,  Sir  Frederick   Leighton ; 

S15 


THE   FLORENCE   OF   LANDOR 

near  the  graves  of  Isa  Blagden,  the  TroUopes, 
and  Theodore  Parker,  was  the  body  of  Landor 
laid. 

''  O,  the  little  birds   sang  east,  and  the  little  birds  sang 
west. 

Toll  slowly. 
And  I  smiled  to  think  God's  greatness  flowed  around  our 

incompleteness,  — 
Round  our  restlessness.  His  rest." 

The  beautiful  little  English  cemetery  just  out- 
side the  old  walls  of  Florence  will  forever  remain 
a  shrine  of  poetic  pilgrimage.  A  double  line  of 
the  dark  cypress  trees  motionless  as  statues,  sur- 
round the  spot ;  the  encircling  mountain  lines 
tower  above  it  from  the  near  horizon  and  the 
golden  Italian  sunshine  shimmers  into  a  thousand 
opalescent  lights  and  shadows  over  the  tombs 
whose  names  suggest  so  much  of  the  poetic 
vitality  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The  flat 
entablature  of  marble  laid  on  Landor  s  grave 
bears  only  his  name  and  the  two  dates —  1775- 
1864  —  within  whose  limits  the  story  of  his 
life  on  earth  was  comprised,  the  most  beauti- 
ful chapters  of  which  were  set  in  the  scenic  en- 
chantment of  the  Flower  of  all  Cities  and  City 
of  all  Flowers. 

816 


THE   TWILIGHT   OF   THE   GODS 

The  Twilight  of  the  Gods  had  faded  into  the 
Immortal  Dawn  of  the  Glory  Everlasting. 

"  And  thou,  his  Florence,  to  thy  trust 
Receive  and  keep, 
Keep  safe  his  dedicated  dust, 
His  sacred  sleep. 

"  So  shall  thy  lovers,  come  from  far, 
Mix  with  thy  name 
As  morning-star  with  evening-star 
*  His  faultless  fame." 


317 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Ablett,  Mr.,  42,  43. 

Academe,  59. 

Academy,  Platonic,  92,  158,  160. 

Acciajuolo,  Bishop  Angelo,  tomb 
of,  185. 

Acciajuolo,  Niccolo,  founder  of 
the  Certosa,  73,  183. 

Acropolis,  the,  of  Faesulae,  254. 

"  Adam  and  Eve,"  Diirer's  paint- 
ing of,  171. 

•'  Adoration,  The,"  170. 

AfFrico,  50. 

Ajax,  90. 

Albany,  Duchess  of,  183. 

Alberti,  Leo  Battista,  58. 

Alcott,  Amos  Bronson,  137. 

Aldrich,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomas 
Bailey,  290. 

Alexander,  54. 

Alfieri,  239,  240. 

"  Alfieri  and  Salomon,"  in  Imagi- 
nary Conversations,  241,  255. 

**  Allegory,  An,"  picture  in  Pitti 
Palace,  169. 

Araici,  Professor,  55. 

"Andrea  of  Hungary,"  213,  237. 

"  Annunciation,  The,"  171. 

Aquinas,  St.  Thomas,  165. 

Arezzo.  79,  81. 

Aristotle,  92. 

Assisi,  197. 

•'  Assumption,  The,"  by  Andrea 
del  Sarto,  170. 

"Aurora  Leigh,"  99;  Landor's 
praises  of,  191,  196. 

21  321 


Aylmer,  John,  Bishop  of  London, 

206. 
Aylmer,  Lady,  206. 
Aylmer,    Rose   Whitworth,   201  ; 

Landor's    meeting   with,    201  ; 

impressions  of,  202 ;   charm  of 

lyric  on,  205  ;  life  of,  206  ;  hair 

of,  treasured  by  Landor,  207  ; 

journey  to  India,  of,  209,  210  ; 

death   of,   210 ;    memories    of, 

211,  281. 

Bagni  di  Lucca,  196. 
Bandini,  Bernardo,  177. 
Barberini,     Cardinal    Francesco, 

150. 
Bartolommeo,  Fra,  169,  173  ;  por- 
trait of  Savonarola,  by,  165. 
"  Beatrice'*Cenci,"  137. 
Bell,  John,  87. 
Bellosguardo,  Heights  of,  42,  74, 

99,  174. 
Benedictine  order,  the,  70. 
Bicci,  Giovanni  di,  176. 
Blagden,  Isa,  24,   106,   136,   138, 

308,      316;     letters     of     Mrs. 

Browning  to,  131. 
Blessington,  Lady,  24,  38,  46,  47, 

48,  264,  265,  266,  287. 
Blessington,  Lord,  47. 
Boboli  Gardens,  the,  103. 
Boccaccio,  25,  49,  50,   114,   225, 

226 ;    appreciation    of    Landor 

for,  229. 
BolejTi,  Anne,  225. 


INDEX 


Bonnat,  Leon,  175. 

Bot±icelli,  67,  168,  169. 

Boi^a,  Lucrezia,  -28. 

Brown,  Charles  Arraitage,  50,  112. 

Browning,  Elizabeth  Barrett,  90, 
119,  l-'O,  HI,  131,  133,  136; 
Countess  d'Ossoli  characterized 
by,  127,  128  ;  letters  of,  to  Kate 
Field,  134, 135 ;  "  Pentameron," 
praised  by,  249  ;  Landor  praised 
by,  282;  death  of,  198;  tomb 
of,  315. 

Browning,  Robert,  90,  119,  136, 
195,  198,  263,  303,  304,  312; 
influence  of,  on  Landor,  189  ; 
dedication  of  "  Luria"  to  Lan- 
dor, 190. 

Browning,  Sarianna,  90. 

Brownings,  the,  24,  47,  79,  105, 
157,  196,  197,  259,  281. 

Buonaventuri,  Pietro,  12. 

Bume-Jones,  Sir  Edward,  305. 

Brunelleschi,  23,  83,  166,  167,  179. 

Bryant,  William  CuUen,  visit  of, 
to  Florence,  106. 

Byron,  Lord,  his  assaults  on 
Southey,  29. 

Caesaes,  the,  palace  of,  149. 

Campagna,  the,  149. 

Campanile,  the,  9. 

Canova,  149,  152. 

Capello,  Bianca,  12. 

Careggi,  59. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  58. 

Cascine,  the,  181. 

Casa  Bello,  106,  107,  108. 

Casa  Guidi,   105,   107,    129,   140, 

195,  262,  263,  303. 
Castle  San  Angelo,  151. 
Catania,  University  of,  132. 
Catharine  of  Siena,  296,  297,  298, 

299,  300,  301. 


Catullus,  -250. 

Cavour,  Count,  22,  249. 

Cellini,  Benvenuto,  90,  168. 

"  Cenacolo,  The"  by  Andrea  del 
Sarto,  62. 

Certosa,  Convent  of,  73,  183,  184. 

Charles  VIII.  of  France,  179. 

Chaterjii,  Mohini,  17. 

Chavannes,  Pu^is  de,  175. 

Chesterfield,  Lord,  65,  229. 

Christine  of  Lorraine,  13. 

Church  of  San  Alessandro,  254  ; 
Carmine,  303  ;  Santa  Croce,  71, 
72,  180,  181,  183;  St.  Domin- 
ico,  297,  298 ;  San  Francesco 
di  Paola,  74,  186  ;  San  Lor- 
enzo, 64,  175,  176;  San  Miniato, 
43,  64,  69,  72  ;  Santa  Maria 
Novella,  19,  194,  195 ;  San  Mar- 
tino  a  Mensola,  6-2,  63 ;  St 
Peter's,  149;  San  Spirito,  53, 
64,  174,  180. 

Cicero,  254. 

Cimabue,  69,  194. 

City  of  the  Leaning  Tower, 
the,  3. 

Clement  VII.,  177. 

Clement,  XIII.,  tomb  of,  149. 

"Cleopatra,"  Guido's  picture  of, 
17U;  William  Wetmore  Story's 
poem,  156  ;  his  statue  of,  151. 

Coates,  Florence  Earle,  quoted, 
204. 

Cobbe,  Frances  Power,  24 ;  visit 
of  to  Florence,  131  ;  brilliant 
circle   of,  136. 

Coleman,  Charles  Caryll,  portrait 
of  Landor  by,  259. 

"  Conspiracy  of  Catullus,"  picture 
by  Salvator  Rosa,  170. 

"  Conversation  between  Galileo, 
Milton,  and  a  Dominican,"  239. 

"  Conversations  in  a  Studio,"  157. 


322 


INDEX 


Cook,  Henrietbi,  sister  of  Mrs. 
Browning,  i:}3. 

Copernicvin  system,  the,  of  Gali- 
leo, H. 

Cornwall,  Barry,  IS!). 

Corson,  Dr.    Hiram,  quoted,  14.5. 

Cosirao  il  Vecchio,  10,  11,  U,  13, 
U,  26,  86,  9:i,  177. 

Cosimo,  Piero  di,  75. 

"Count  Julian,"  -is,  :«. 

Cranch.  Mr.  and  Mrs  Christopher 
Pearse,  193. 

Cushman,  Charlotte,  157. 

Dali,'  Ongaro,  Francesco,  13fi. 

"  Dance  of  the  Pleiades,  The," 
154. 

Dante,  19,  20,  108,  113,  182,  291, 
309  ;  Mr.  Kirkup's  manuscript 
poems  of,  110;  death-mask  of, 
110;  fresco  portrait  of,  110; 
monument  to,  180. 

"Dante  and  Beatrice,"  in  "Im- 
aginary Conversations,"  2il. 

"Dancing  Mercury,  The,"  of 
Giovanni  da  Bologna,  191-. 

"David,"  Michael  Angclo's  statue 
of,  72 ;  Donatello's  statue  of, 
194. 

Da  Vinci,  Leonardo,  175. 

"  Death  of  Clytemnestra,  The," 
236, 

"  Decameron,  The,"  2-25. 

De  Quincey,  Thomas,  32. 

De  Vere,  Aubrey,  quoted  by 
Landor,  267  ef  seq. 

Dickens,  Charles,  190,283;  Fors- 
ter's  allusion  to  letter  of,  124, 
125  ;  Landor's  words  on,  214. 

"  Divine  Comedy,  The,"  115. 

Dolci,  Carlo.  168. 

DonateUo,  work  of,  91,  176. 

Dowden,  Edward,  248. 


"  Dry  Sticks."  310. 

Dudley,  Sir  Robert,  p>alace  of,  10, 

16;  arrival  in  Flortoice  of,  11  ; 

reception    of,   by    Cpsirao   II., 

13  ;  death  of,  15  ;   burial-place 

of,  15. 
Duomo,  the,  Hawthorne'f  words 

on,  107. 
Dupre,  Giovanni,  176,  181, 

Fames,  Emma  {see  Story). 

"  Ecce  Homo,"  painting  by  Fra 
Bartolommeo,  170. 

Eldridge,  Emeline  {see  Story). 

Eleanora,  Duchess  of  Toledo, 
168;  portrait  of,  172. 

Eliot,  George  {pseud.  Mary  Ann 
Evans  Cross),  24,  90 ;  impres- 
sions of  Fiesole,  83 ;  visits  Trol- 
lope,  84;  art  criticisms  of,  90; 
quoted,  8,  96,  97,  98  ;  Palazzo 
Pitti  characterized  by,  167. 

Elizabeth,  Queen,  11. 

"  Elizabeth  and  Burleigh "  in 
"  Imaginary  Conversations," 
237. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  24,  47  ; 
238,  253 ;  Duomo  praised  by, 
57 ;  letter  of  to  Landor,  57 ; 
his  meeting  with  Landor,  53, 
54,  55,  238,  253. 

Esti,  Leonora  di,  240. 

"  Estrangement,"  156. 

Everett,  Edward,  Story's  statue 
of,  155. 

"  Examination  of  William  Shake- 
speare for  Deer-Stealing,"  48. 

"  Fates  Gathering  in  the  Stars, 

The,"  154. 
Ferdinand,  King  of  Naples,  178. 
Ferrucci,  Francesco,  10,  12,  13. 
Festival  of  Corpus  Domini,  195. 


3'23 


INDEX 


Field,  Eliza,  nU  Riddle  (Mrs. 
Joseph  M.),  135. 

Field,  Kate,  24,  30,  35,  284 ;  let- 
ters to,  134 ;  quotations  from, 
188,  20T,  259,  202,  ilQ,  277; 
letter  of  Landor  to,  274  ;  manu- 
scripts of,  280. 

Fiesole,  3,  "ib,  68. 

Fiske,  Professor  Daniel  Willard, 
restoration  of  Villa  Landor  by, 
289 ;  hospitality  of,  290  ;  con- 
versation of,  290  ;  Dante  and 
Petrarca  collections  of,  291, 
292,  293 ;  gift  of,  to  Cornell, 
294 ;  scholarly  culture  of,  294, 
295;  death  of,  291. 

Florence,  Trollope's  History  of, 
138. 

Forster,  John,  129,  283,  284; 
"  The  Pentameron  "  character- 
ized by,  114  ;  lyric  of  Landor 's 
appreciated  hy,  205 ;  quotations 
from,  237,  238,  251,  252,  253; 
Landor's  life  appraised  by,  314, 
315. 

Fra  Angelico,  San  Marco  immor- 
talized by,  23  ;  ineffable  beauty 
of  works  of,  160. 

Franldin,  Benjamin,  240. 

Fra  Girolamo,  164. 

French  Revolution,  the,  35. 

Fuller,  Margaret,  Countess  d'  Os- 
soli  {see  Ossoli). 

Galileo,  14,  26,  241  ;  called  to 
Florence  by  Cosimo,  13  ;  tradi- 
ditions  of,  42 ;  tower  of,  64 ; 
Herschel's  appreciation  of,  67. 

Garibaldi,  249;  tablet  to,  183. 

"Gebir,"  28,  31,32,  277. 

Ghirlandajo,  23. 

Gibson,  John,  his  bust  of  Landor, 
260. 


"  Ginevra,"  Da  Vinci's  picture  of, 
171. 

Giotto,  69,  181  ;  tower  of,  83. 

"Girlhood  of  Catherine  de'  Me- 
dici, The,"  138. 

Giulio,  Cardinal,  62. 

Giovanna  di  Napoli,  236. 

Giovanni  da  Bologna,  b^. 

Giovanna,  Prince,  12. 

Goddi,  grand  staircase  of,  in  the 
Bargello,  193. 

Graves-Sawle,  Lady,  nie  Payn- 
ter,  211,  215;  portrait  of,  206, 
209  ;  marriage  of,  214  ;  golden 
wedding  of,  216,  217. 

Greenough,  Horatio,  47,  53,  54. 

Gregory  IX.,  Pope,  181. 

Gualberto,  Giovanni,  miracle  ap>- 
pears  to,  70  ;  crucifix  of,  72 ; 
relics  of,  78. 

Hallam,  Henry,  59. 

Hardy,  Thomas,  85. 

Hare,  Francis,  24,  31,  46. 

Hare,  Julius,  24,  31,  46,  130. 

Hawthorne,  Julian,  letter  of,  111, 
112. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  24,  99, 
105,  106,  ]07,  108,  157  ;  art  im- 
pressions of,  89 ;  Mr.  Story's 
statue  of  Cleopatra  interpreted 
by,  151;  Bellosguardo  described 
by,  187. 

Hazlitt,  William,  112. 

"  He  and  She,  a  Poet's  Portfolio," 
156. 

"  Heroic  Idylls,"  275,  308. 

Herschel,  Sir  John,  b^,  67. 

Hillard,  George  S.,  Browning's 
conversation  described  by,  140. 

"  Holy  Family,  The,"  Raphael's 
picture  of,  170 ;  Andrea  del 
Sarto's  picture  of,  172. 


324 


INDEX 


Homer,  Landor's  veneration  of, 
^2'M,  '275. 

Horace,  52,  240.  271. 

Hosracr,  Harriet,  characteriza- 
tion of  by  Miss  Cohbe,  V.il. 

Hutton,  K.  H. ,  George  Eliot's 
letter  to,  85. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  2i,  25,  42,  46,  50, 
51,  52,  112,  189. 

"  Iavthe,"  207,  208. 

*'  Idler  in  France,  The,"  2(i6. 

"Idler  in  Itiily,  The,"  2(i6. 

"  Imaginary  Conversations,"  28, 

31,  32,  53,  57,  98,  99,  221,  222, 

240,  289. 
"  Infant  Bacchus,  The,"  155. 
•'  Ibilian  Note  Books.  The,"  99. 
Inglis,  Sir  Robert  Harry,  130. 

James,  Henry,  192. 

Jameson,  Mrs.  Anna,  24,  62,  70, 
140. 

*'  Jane  Eyre,"  195. 

Janiculum,  the,  151. 

Jarves,  James  Jackson,  157. 

"Jerusalem  in  Her  Desolation," 
Me.  Story's  sculpture  of,  155. 

John  of  Bologna,  53. 

"Judith  and  Holofernes,"  the,  of 
Donatello,  91. 

Julius  II.,  Pope,  Raphael's  por- 
trait of,  170. 

Keats,  John,  78,  239. 
Kenilworth,  16. 
Kenyon,  Frederick,  131. 
Kenyon,  John,  24,46,  79;  Fors- 

ter's  characterization  of  129. 
Kinney,   Mrs.   Ehzabeth   Coates, 

1 23. 
Kirkup,  Seymour.  24.   108,   117, 

216,  306,  312;  Hawthorne's  de- 


scription of,  109  ;  antique   col- 
lections  of,   110,  111;  reminis- 
cences of.  115,  116. 
Kossuth,  Louis,  125,  249  ;  letter 
of,  to  Landor,  278,  279. 

"  La  Beata,"  138. 

"  La  Bella,"  172. 

"  La  Donna  Velata,"  170,  172. 

Lamb,  Charles,  249. 

Landino,  26,  58. 

Landor,  Julia,  n6e  Thuillicr  (Mrs* 
Walter  Savage  Landor),  116. 

Landor,  Walter  Savage,  3,  4,  5, 
23,  25,  27,  28,  29,  30  ;  birth  of, 
31 ;  parentage  of,  31,  34  ;  Spain 
visited  by,  36,  38 ;  villa  ac- 
quired by,  42  ;  allusion  of 
Emerson  to,  56  ;  marriage  of, 
116  ;  Southey  overrated  by,  57, 
113,  136,  158,  159  ;  art  worship 
of,  188  ;  Browning  praised  by, 
190,  191  ;  Rose  Aylmer  met 
by,  201,  202,  203, '221,  222; 
art  criticism  of,  232  ;  worship 
of  for  Shakespeare,  235  ;  pov- 
erty of,  244 ;  Kate  Field's 
characterization  of,  246,  247, 
253,  255,  256,  259,  275  ;  poetic 
appreciations  of,  277  ;  letter  of 
to  Kossuth,  279,  280 ;  visit  of 
to  the  Storys,  281,  282  ;  Mrs. 
Browning's  poems  praised  by, 
284  ;  medallion  head  of,  290 ; 
letter  of  to  Forster,  310  ;  death 
of  313  ;  grave  of,  316. 

Lang,  Andrew,  209. 

"Liist  Fruit,"  263. 

Laurentian  Library,  the,  85,  86. 

Leader,  Temple,  61. 

Leighton,  Sir  Frederick,  24,  315. 

"  Lenorc,"  206. 

Lewes,  George  Henry,  24,  84. 


S25 


INDEX 


Lippi,  FUippo,  176. 
Loggia  de'  Lanzi,  90. 
Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth, 

49. 
Lorenzo  il  Magnifico,  20,  26,  86, 

236 ;  villa  of,  58 ;   death  of,  9, 

93  ;  legend  of,  95  ;  incident  of, 

in  gardens  of  San  Marco,  161. 
Lowell,  James  Russell,  151,  195  ; 

words  of,  on  Dante,  294. 
Luca    della     Robbia,    important 

work  of,  74. 
Lytton,     Lord,     {pseud.,     Owen 

Meredith),  196. 

Machiavelli,   Bernardo,  49,   51, 

61,  183. 
"  Madonna  Addolorata,"  181. 
"Madonna     del      Baldacchino," 

the,    173. 
"  Madonna       dell'     Impruneta," 

shrine  of,  73. 
"  Madonna  of  the  Roses,"    168. 
"  Madonna  della  Seggiola,"   170, 

173. 
"  Magdalen,     The,"     Perugino's 

picture  of   171. 
Magliabicchiana  Library,  85. 
"  Malesherbes "    in    "Imaginary 

Conversations,"  223,  224,  225. 
Manning,    Rev.    Dr.,   afterward 

Cardinal,  305. 
"Marble  Faun,  The,"  151,  152. 
Maria  Maddalena,  15. 
Marie,  Queen   of  Henri  IV.   of 

France,  12. 
"  Marriage     of     St.     Catherine, 

The,"  170,  172. 
Marsh,  George  P. ,  140, 
Massrnger,  PhiUp,  54. 
Mazzini,  Giuseppe,  tablet  to,  183  ; 

Lan dor's  admiration  for,  249. 
Medea,  statue  of,  155. 


Medici,  Anna  Maria,  de',  175. 

Medici,  Cosimo  de',  20. 

Medici,  Piero  de',  72. 

Medici,  Chapel  of  the,  12,  87. 

Metcalfe,  Sir  Theophilus,  210. 

Michael  Angelo  Buonarotti,  35, 
41;  birthplace  of,  51  ;  referred 
to-  by  Lan  dor,  6Q  ;  in  group  of 
the  Academe,  58,  60  ;  "  David" 
of,  72  ;  Laurentian  Library  de- 
signed by,  85  ;  Medicean  stat- 
ues of,  87 ;  power  of,  89  ;  "  The 
Three  Fates  "  of,  171 ;  Vasari's 
monument  to,  182. 

Millais,  Sir  John,  175. 

Milton,  14,  <2&,  31,  32,  33,  34, 
42,  45,  79,  206,  284 ;  Landor's 
praise  of,  286. 

"  Milton  in  Italy,"  287. 

Mirandola,  Giovanni  Picodella, 
58,  160,  256  ;  biography  of,  92; 
visit  of  to  Lorenzo  il  Magnifico, 
93. 

Montepulciana,  Fra  Francesco 
de,  181. 

Mount-Edgcombe,  Earl  of,  217. 

Mount  Morello,  73. 

Murillo,  Madonna  of,  170. 

Napoleon,  35,  36. 
Nelli,  Bartolommeo,  51. 
Neptune,  fountain  of,  91. 
Nicino,  MarsUio,  58. 
Northumberland,  Duke  of,  10,  12. 
Norton,  Prof.  Charles  Eliot,  307. 

"ODEtoSouthey,"311. 

"  Odyssey,  The,"  275,  306. 

Orcagna,  90. 

Ossini,  Clarice,  178. 

Ossoli,  Margaret,  «/e  Fuller, 
Countess  d'  Ossoli,  24  ;  quoted 
from,  35;  sojourn  in  Florence 


326 


INDEX 


of,  126,  127;  Mrs.  Browning's 
comment  on,  127,  128  ;  strange 
incident  of,  12S;  curious  proph- 
ecy regarding,  12S  ;  marriage 
of,  157  ;  literary  comparison  of, 
230. 
Ovid,  52. 

P.t:sTUM,  ruined  temples  at,  47. 

Palazzo,    Berti,    25  ;   Barbe- 

rini,    149,    150 ;    Buondel- 

morte,    10 ;  Medici,   l<j()  ; 

Odeschalchi,  2S  ; Pas- 

serina,  24  ;  Pitti,  11,  lGt>  ; 

Podesta,  193  ; Strozzi, 

10,  99  ; Vecchio,  11,  (i3,  90. 

"  Pallas  and  the  Centaur,"  by 
Botticelli,  169. 

Palmieri,  Matteo,  67. 

Paolo  and  Francesca,  74. 

'*  Paracelsus,"  189. 

Paris,  5,  35. 

Parker,  Theodore,  24,  137,  316. 

Parsous,  Dr.  Thomas  W.,  193. 

"  Pascarel,"  64. 

Paynter,  Mrs.,  nie  Aylmer,  206. 

*'  Pauline,"  284. 

Peabody,  Elizabeth,  125. 

Peabody,  George,  st^itue  of,  155. 

*' Pentameron,  The,"  113;  Mrs. 
Browning's  praises  of,  250. 

"Pericles  and  Aspasia,"31,  230, 
231,  285  ;  Mrs.  Browning's  ver- 
dict on,  254. 

"  Perseus,"  the,  of  Cellini,  90. 

Perugino,  55,  176. 

Pcruzzi,  Mme.  Edith,  n4e  Story, 
77. 

Petrarca,  114,  225,  226,  227,  229  ; 
collective  works  of,  291. 

Piazza  del  Duomo,  180  ;  In- 

dipendenza,     84;     Sanbi 

Maria  Novella,  126,  195  ;   


della  Signoria,  91  ; Trinita, 

9;  del  Tritone,  149. 

Pitti,  Luca,  166,  167. 

"  Plato  and  Diogenes,"  32. 

Platonic   Academy   of   Florence, 

the,  26,  158. 
Poliziano,  58,  60,  160. 
Polybius,  -2^. 
Ponte  Vecchio,  107. 
Powers,  Hiram,  24,  105. 
Prinsep,  Val,  305. 
"  Proserpine,"  bust  of,  by  Hirara 

Powers,  105. 
"Puck,"    by    Harriet    Hosmer, 

137. 
Pulsky,  Count,  125. 

"  Quarterly  Review,  The,"  32. 

Rachel,  38. 

Raphael,  .35,  55,  62,  170,  173, 
175. 

Renan,  Ernest,  92. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  235. 

Ricci,  his  monuiuent  to  Dante, 
182. 

"  Roba  di  Roma,"  155,  157. 

"  Rosamunda,"  the  first  Italian 
tragedy,  iy-2. 

"  Romola,"  84,  85,  95,  96,  98,  99. 

Rome,  6'^. 

Rontgen  ray,  the,  5, 

Rossellina,  176. 

Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel,  305. 

Rousseau  (in  "  Imaginary  Con- 
versations "),  223,  224,  225. 

Rubens,  111  ;  portrait  of,  173. 

Rucellai,  Bernardo,  61. 

Rucellai,  Giovanni,  G2. 

Rucellai,  the.  11,  17,  62. 

Ruskin,  John,  6S. 

Russell,  Sir  Henry  and  Lady, 
209,  210. 


327 


INDEX 


Saint    Andrew,     62,    63 ;    

Romolo,  60 ; Benedict,  75 ; 

Francis,  meeting  of,  with 

Saint  Benedict,  75;  John, 

145  ; Louis,  statue  of,  182  ; 

Ornatus,  62 ;  Ber- 
nardino, 182. 

"  Salle  des  Illusions,"  6,  7. 

Sallust,  26. 

Salotto  di  Clement  VII.,  23. 

Salvator  Rosa,  170. 

Salvini,  Tomraaso,  visit  of,  to 
Story,  78. 

San  Baldassare,  convent  of,  50. 

San  Dominico,  the  hamlet  of,  25. 

San  Marco,  23,  95,  IGO,  161,  162, 
164. 

San  Miniato,  42,  63. 

San  Salvi,  convent  of,  62. 

Santa  Trinita  al  Monte,  gardens 
of,  14. 

Sarto,  Andrea  del,  170,  171. 

"  Saul,"  Story's  statue  of,  155. 

Savonarola,  Fra  Girolamo,  19,  23, 
91,  94,  95,  98,  158,  159,  165; 
summons  of,  to  Lorenzo's  death- 
bed, 93,  176 ;  words  of,  161, 
162,  163,  164;  statue  of, 
180. 

"  Savonarola  e  il  Priori  di  San 
Marco,"  158. 

"  Search  after  Proserpine,  The," 
by  Aubrey  De  Vere,  269. 

Settignano,  49,  62. 

Shakespeare,  192,  221,  222,  272, 
284. 

Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe,  32,  34, 
78,  196,  249,  284,  285. 

"  Sibyl,  The,"  by  Story,  155. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  in  "  Imagi- 
nary Conversations,"  241. 

Siena,  296,  300,  302. 

Simonides,  250. 


Sistine  Chapel,  the,  60. 

Sixtus  IV.,  Pope,  178. 

"  Sleeping  Faun,  The,"  by  Har- 
riet Hosmer,  137. 

Smith,  Professor  and  Mrs.  Gold- 
win,  290. 

Sodoma,  the  frescoes  of,  300. 

Soderini,  Niccolo,  167. 

Somerville,  Mrs.,  24. 

Sophocles,  260. 

"  Soul's  Tragedy,  A,"  191, 

Southey,  28,  29,  30,  32,  56,  57, 
269. 

Southeys,  the,  36. 

Southey  and  Porson,  in  "  Imagi- 
nary Conversations,"  228,  229. 

Spini,  The,  10. 

Story,  Emeline,  niie  Eldridge 
(Mrs.  William  Wetmore),  148. 

Story,  Emma,  n6e  Fames  (Mrs. 
Julian),    158. 

Story,  Joseph,  148,  154 ;  statue 
of,  155. 

Story,  Julian,  158. 

Story,  Waldo,  158. 

Story,  William  Wetmore,  76,  77, 
78,  146  ;  characterization  of 
Hawthorne,  106  ;  personal  ap- 
pearance described  by  Haw- 
thorne, 152  ;  home  of,  148, 149  ; 
friends  of,  153  ;  art  of,  153, 
154  ;  literary  work  of,  155,  156  ; 
friendship   of,  with  Browning, 

157,  158  ;  letter  of,  to  Lowell, 
195. 

Storys,  the,  24,  150,  151,  157, 

158,  192,    193,    195,    196,    197, 
259. 

Stowe,  Harriet,  nde  Beecher,  24, 
128  ;  last  words  of,  to  Mrs. 
Browning,  129. 

Strozzi,  Filippo,  Trollope's  Life  of, 
138. 


S28 


INDEX 


Strozzi,  Giovanni  Battista,  88. 

Sumner,  Charles,  57. 

Swinburne,  Algernon  Charles, 
2t;  quotation  from,  171;  Lan- 
dor  praised  by,  '250,  251  ;  his 
visit  to  Liindor,  'M6  ;  his  verses 
to  the  memory  of  Landor, 
307. 

Symonds,  John  Addington,  58, 
59,  300.      . 

Tadema,  Alma,  175. 

Tasso,  -HO. 

Taylor,  O.  J.,  206. 

Tennyson,  Alfred,  124. 

Tennyson,  Frederic,  24,  123, 
137. 

Thackeray,  William  Makepeace, 
24,  124,  158. 

Theosophy,  Florentine,  Society 
of,  16. 

Thuillier,  Julia,  36  (see  Landor). 

Titian,  170. 

Toledo,  Duchessa  Eleonora  di, 
11,  12,  167. 

Tornabuoni,  Mona  Lucrezia,  86, 
177. 

Torra  del  Gullo,  14,  64,  66. 

TroUope,  Anthony,  138. 

TroUope,  Theodosia,  m^fi  Gar- 
row  (.Mrs.  Thomas  Adolphus), 
216. 

TroUope,  Thomas  Adolphus, 
^^lla  of,  84,  99,  107,  13!) ;  quota- 
tion from,  117,  118,  119  ;  words 
of,  138. 

Trollopes,  the,  136. 

Tully,  26. 

"Tuscan  Sculptors,"  184. 

Umzi,     gallery    of,      11,     175, 

180. 
"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  122. 


Urban  VIII.,  149,  150. 

Vallombrosa,  19,  45,  50,  69,  71, 
76,  79.  80. 

Varchi,  Benedetto,  182. 

Vasari,  182. 

Vatican,  the,  173. 

Vedder,  Elihu,  153 ;  genius  of, 
154 ;  spiritual  mysteries  inter- 
preted by,   154. 

Verrocchio,  176. 

Very,  Jones,  193. 

Villa  Alberti,  281 ;  Brichieri,  130, 
136;  Castello  di  Vincigliata, 
61,  62 ;  Gherardesca,  25  ;  Lan- 
dor, 26,  41,  52,  75,  202,  289, 
294  ;  Lago  di  Vallombrosa,  77, 
78,  Ludovisi,  149  ;  Medici,  95  ; 
Mont-Auto,  130;  Palmieri,  67  ; 
TroUope,  84. 

Via  Tornabuoni,  10;  dellaMiseri- 
cordia,  126  ;  della  VignaNuova, 
1(». 

Victor  Emmanuel,  22. 

Victoria,  Queen,  visit  of,  to 
Florence,  6S. 

Villari,  Linda,  n^e  White  (Mrae. 
Pasquale),  24,  136,  138. 

Villari,  Prof.   Pasquale,  160,  161. 

Villari,  Senatore,  123. 

"  Vision  of  Ezekiel,"  169. 

Vittoria  Colonna,  in  "  Imaginary 
Conversations,"  2:?;i,  234. 

Voltaire,  55,  224,  225. 

"  WARHion,  The,"  by  Salvator 
Rosa,  170. 

Washington,  55,  240. 

Watts,  George  Frederic,  175. 

Webster.  Daniel,  283. 

Willis,  Nathaniel  Parker,  24 ; 
visit  of,  to  Landor,  48 ;  bril- 
liant life  of,  48. 


829 


INDEX 


Wilson,   Mrs.    Browning's  maid, 

303, 
Wheeler,  Stephen,  209. 
White,  Linda  {see  Villari). 
Whitman,  Walt,  38, 


Wordsworth,  William,  29,  34,  5.5, 

190,  249. 
Wright,  J.  A.,  88,  89. 

Zenobia,  by  Harriet  Hosmer,  137. 


330 


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